Beyond All Boundaries
by C. Montgomery Burns
Summary: What if Marvel wasn't the Career everyone thought he was? What if he had better reasons for volunteering than personal glory? Can he hold onto who he was outside the arena or will victory demand everything? AU
1. Paths of Glory

All I can do is sit and watch the endless stream of wilderness pass by the window of the train, carrying me away from the only home I've ever known. District One, my family, my friends, the Academy, the production plants, they're all behind me now. The tracks only go one way and it seems all roads lead to the Hunger Games. I suppose they have for a long time.

Out on the horizon, I can see the bright orange of the setting sun slipping behind the immense mountains, turning them into black silhouettes of themselves. I'm glad my room has a window. I don't particularly feel like going out and talking to the others. Glimmer just frustrates me. I know her type, a District One cliché, a spoiled rich girl fortune smiled upon for some bizarre reason, an overconfident, callous tribute completely assured of her own victory. Victory…we haven't been away from home for even a day. We haven't jumped through all the Capitol hoops and we certainly haven't set foot in the arena. I know better. I have no delusions about what I'm getting myself into. I just remember what they said in the Academy: it's a vicious fight from beginning to end and I have to be ready for that. Otherwise…well I try not to think about the otherwise part.

I hear a knock at the door accompanied by a shrill voice laced with that goofy Capitol accent. "Marvel!" calls the sing-song voice of our escort, Prue, "It's time for dinner and Gloss wants you out of hiding to watch the recap."

I groan, but know I must comply. "I'll be out in a minute," I say.

Fortunately, Prue accepts the answer and leaves. I'd been lounging around my room after the reaping in nothing but sweatpants and a t-shirt, but decide not to change for dinner. After all, it's not like these are people I need to impress.

I head into the dining car. Glimmer, Prue and our mentors, the extremely famous sibling-duo of Cashmere and Gloss, are already seated around the fine mahogany table, enjoying dinner. "Finally. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to hide in there until we reached the Capitol," says Gloss, his smirk as white as porcelain.

I just shrug. "I was a little tired, just wanted to rest a bit," I lie. I was really just trying to avoid all of you.

"You better not have been breaking down in there. There's no room for softness in the Games and I certainly won't mentor anyone that fragile," says Gloss, his eyes narrowing.

"Hey, I wouldn't have volunteered if I couldn't handle it," I snap back as I take a seat beside my district partner. That's the truth. I've got a better reason for doing this than any other tribute in the Games. My family needs this. That gives me far more drive than pursuit of glory ever could, something I doubt Gloss understands.

"Don't worry about him. Marvel's always been kinda weird like that. Back at the Academy, I'd always see him training alone, just throwing that spear over and over and over. He barely talked to anyone and certainly not any of the girls," laughs Glimmer, her voice high and nasally and oh-so blonde.

"Maybe if you trained more, you'd be better prepared!" I snap back, even though there was some truth to what she said.

"Hey! I beat out every girl in my age group! You don't have to be a dick just because you can't relate to anyone," says Glimmer sharply.

"Y'know Marvel, I never would've picked you for the awkward guy. Most kids that get the honor of being selected to be tribute are natural leaders and have that edge about them," comments Cashmere

I huff. Somehow I think surviving the Games will be easier than surviving the week with these three. "I'm not super awkward. I was just all business at the Academy. I trained hard and didn't let dumb things distract me. It's what made me effective," I say.

Gloss nods. "Well, that I can work with. Speaking of which, we need to start getting into strategy. I assume you two are up for a career alliance?" he asks.

We both nod, although Glimmer's more enthusiastic than me. I don't particularly like the careers, but I know it's what I have to do. Working with them early will give me the best shot at winning and securing my family's future.

"Good. We won't know for sure until the recap, but Districts Two and Four usually produce solid allies…at least until you get deep into the Games," says Cashmere wisely. The look in her eyes is blank, like her mind has drifted back to her Hunger Games over ten years ago.

"What're your skills anyway?" Gloss asks.

"I'm good with knives, but even better with a bow," says Glimmer confidently. I try to suppress my laughter beneath my hand, but it keeps seeping out. Good with a bow? She spent more time flirting at the Academy than practicing. There was actually a rumor going around that she slept with the head trainer to make tribute.

"Something funny?" demands Glimmer, noticing my struggle.

"Oh no no no. Nothing funny at all. You're great with a bow," I say, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

"What're you so great at?" asks Cashmere from across the table. Evidently, she doesn't like me mocking her tribute.

"Like Glimmer said earlier, spears. I can throw 'em like darts," I say with pride. It's the truth. Back at the Academy, nobody could even come close to me in that department. I could skewer a dummy from twenty yards away. The others were lucky if they could even get near it.

"You've certainly got the arms of a spear-guy," says Gloss observantly. "I see no reason to do anything crazy this year. Both of you seem like you've got skill, so just hook up with the other careers early and pick off the other tributes until it's time to make your move."

"Oh, these strategic discussions are so dry," complains Prue, having had nothing to contribute to our conversation. "Just wait until you two see the Capitol. Don't get me wrong. District One is marvelous and certainly better than other districts. I was a mentor at Twelve for a few years and I have never seen a more poorly dressed, slovenly group of people in my entire life. One year, I remember my tributes…

I tune out after that and focus on the spectacular food being served. It's certainly better than what I ate back home. The meats are well-cooked. The vegetables are crisp. The bread smells fresh and the dessert, rich chocolate cake, is succulent. The din of conversation swirls around me as the avoxes remove dishes and bring in new ones. I can't imagine how they feel, voiceless and reduced to slavery. I wish I could speak to one and show it a little decency, show it that not everybody thinks what's happened to them is okay, but I can't. Besides being illegal, I doubt Gloss would stand for such a display of sympathy from a tribute.

After dinner, we all head into a different, well-furnished car to watch the recap of the reapings. Somehow, I find myself squeezed onto a plush couch between my best friends in the whole-wide world, Glimmer and Gloss. Prue leaves, most likely to go throw up the food she just ate, as the broadcast starts.

District One is first. I watch Glimmer, dressed in her expensive gold dress and heels, saunter onto the stage again, looking the part of the beautiful District One girl. Then I see myself volunteer, dressed relatively modestly for a District One kid in a plain white dress-shirt and black slacks. I take the stage confidently and state my name for all of Panem, Marvel Maddox. I did well, but seeing the reaping brings back memories of the tearful goodbye afterwards, of my parents hugging me tighter than ever before and telling me how proud they were of me, of my little brother, Striker, making me promise to win as he balanced on his crutches. I shake my head to clear these thoughts. All they do is make me sad and for the next few weeks, I can't allow myself to lose focus. The stakes are way too high for that.

Next, is District Two and it doesn't disappoint. A huge, hulking blonde guy with the coldest gaze I've ever seen volunteers. He says his name is Cato and I can tell by the way he carries himself that he's already convinced of his victory. Okay, maybe Cato's gaze wasn't the coldest one I've ever seen. His district partner, a small, devious looking girl named Clove, has him beat in that department. Her gaze is a bit different though. Something about her gaze indicates something sadistic, an almost feverish desire not just to kill, but to enjoy it and savor every detail of another's suffering. I make a mental note not to underestimate her in the arena.

"Make sure you get in their good graces," says Cashmere, gesturing towards the ominous pair of District Two tributes on the screen, "That isn't someone you want to fight against unless it's absolutely necessary."

"I certainly wouldn't mind being allied with Cato," says Glimmer, running her tongue over her plump pink lips seductively. I roll my eyes at that. Something tells me Cato would rather kill her than kiss her.

"Focus, girl. Once the other tributes start falling off, that's not your ally and certainly not your lover. That's the enemy," cautions Cashmere.

Glimmer pouts. "I know that. Nothing wrong with a little fun before the Games, though," she says with a giggle.

Fortunately, the broadcast continues, stopping the awkward conversation there. Not much interesting happens. District Four looks alright, but most of the other districts pass by with the usual scrawny kids woefully unprepared for the struggle they've been dragged into. District Ten produces a boy with a crippled foot.

"Another one for the bloodbath," says Gloss dryly as we watch the poor bastard hobble onto the stage. It makes me a little bit sick. I suddenly find myself imagining Striker being reaped and trying to navigate the steps of the stage with his crutches. No. That will never happen. Once I win, Striker and my parents will never have to worry about anything ever again. I accomplish this one great feat and we're set for life.

District Eleven pops up. Then a twelve-year-old girl is reaped. Once again, I feel a little bit sick. It really is unfair that twelve-year-olds are reaped and expected to compete against well-trained, fully-grown teenagers like me and Cato. They never stand a chance. It's not like the Capitol cares about that, though. As long as the districts keep supplying them with a fresh batch of wide-eyed tributes to die for their entertainment each year, they're happy.

Then the girl's district partner is reaped. Holy shit. This guy is huge. I watch the dark giant lumber out of the crowd and up onto the stage. The wood creaks beneath his feet as he walks and his huge hands, which look capable of choking the life out of anyone, are curled into fists at his sides. He says his name is Thresh and I know immediately the career alliance may have a problem this year.

Gloss whistles. "Seems like there's a surprise every year," he says.

"Keep your eyes on him during training. If you think you can trust him, bring him into the alliance," says Cashmere.

I turn my head back to screen to watch the final reaping: District Twelve's. First, a petite, timid looking twelve-year-old girl is reaped. Great, another kid being dragged into this. It's so messed up. They're not ready. They never are. It's a damn miracle if they survive the bloodbath. I can already see Clove using the poor girl as target practice when a tall, beautiful brunette rushes out of the crowd, frantic to reach the doomed kid. She's screaming something and squabbling with peacekeepers until she shrugs them off and utters the words I never thought I'd hear come from anyone from District Twelve: I volunteer as tribute.

"Wait, what?" says Glimmer on the other side of the couch. For once, I share her sentiments. I can't believe what I'm seeing.

The dark-haired girl straightens herself and walks to the stage, looking composed and ready to take on the world. She says her name is Katniss. Katniss Everdeen. The escort deduces why she volunteered. The small girl was her sister and she's taking her place, saving her life.

"Someone's got a death wish," says Gloss with a chuckle.

I don't pay attention as the District Twelve male is reaped. In years of studying film of the Hunger Games, I've never seen that. I've never seen anyone from the outer districts volunteer, not even for a loved one. In those districts, the word tribute is almost synonymous with corpse and familial obligations only go so far. But not Katniss Everdeen apparently. She's my future adversary and yet I can't help but feel admiration for her. She knows the odds aren't in her favor and yet she volunteered. She volunteered for her family. I suppose the others wouldn't understand, but I do. I imagine what I'd do if Striker was reaped and my choice is clear.

"You don't think that District Twelve rat is going to be trouble do you?" asks Glimmer.

"Hell no. District Twelve always bites it on the first day," says Gloss, dismissing the apparently ludicrous idea immediately.

Cashmere is a little wiser. "I doubt it, but maybe she's got something up her sleeve. She did volunteer after all. Just watch her during training. You'll know pretty quick if she's going to be any threat," she says.

We all retire to our rooms after the recap and I am left alone with my thoughts. I'm not sure if that's good or bad. It's nice to be away from everyone else, but I keep seeing faces. Faces of people I know don't deserve to die, but will have to if I'm going to give my family everything it needs. I see the girl from eleven and the boy from ten, but most of all I see Katniss. She doesn't even have training and yet she's willing to jump into the fray for her sister. Someone so noble should get to live longer, but if I've learned one thing in my eighteen years it's that life is never fair.

* * *

 **A/N: For a character that has never gotten the fanfic love they deserve. All reviews, favs and follows are greatly appreciated.**


	2. Style

Our apartment at the Training Center is luxurious, to say the least. Walking in, we were greeted by the sight of large, expensive couches, marble countertops and a finely crafted glass chandelier that probably came from home. We're on the first floor and for once I'm jealous of the outer districts. Our windows only offer a view of freak show out on the Capitol's streets. Damn, I bet the view from the top of the Center is something. I'm itching to go explore my temporary home, but Prue informs me I'm out of luck. The parade is tonight and I have to meet my stylist. Shit.

I find myself once again hiding in my room, trying to delay the inevitable. The parade looks miserable. Every year, District One has ridiculous costumes and we have to ride out there on national television. This is definitely more of a Glimmer thing. I'm sure she'll turn up the charm and smile and wink and do whatever it takes to get sponsors. If there's any part of this she's better than me at, it's appealing to the sponsors. Hell, one look at her would cause any one of these old, dyed creeps to break open their wallet.

It's a shame I'm not better looking. I'm alright, but not in the Finnick Odair way that makes women swoon and men turn green with envy. Those tributes always get a lot of love from the sponsors. It's weird that a game based around killing people can be influenced by who's better looking, but it definitely can. Who knows? Maybe my stylist will work some magic and the sponsors will come running.

"Marvel! Stop moping in there! It's time to get you down to your prep team!" calls Prue from beyond my door, sounding way too excited.

Shit. Here we go. I open the door and allow Prue to conduct me out of the apartment, ignoring her fussing about the chaotic state of my brown hair or the "sleepy" look in my green eyes. The ride's quick, down into the bowels of the Training Center, probably beneath all the weapons and obstacle courses and dummies. Prue leads down a dark hallway that looks the same as all the others and leaves me in one of the rooms, telling me to strip and put the paper gown on that sits on one of the chairs, apparently left just for me. Or maybe not. As I pull it on, I can't help but notice it doesn't exactly hang low enough on my tall frame. Shit. I cross my hands over my junk and try to ignore the draft in the room. God, I hope nobody but my stylist and my prep team ever see me like this. I can't imagine what Striker would give to have a photo of this, a permanent record he could use to humiliate me 'til the end of time.

The smile the thought of my brother brought to my face is quickly erased when the door swings open to reveal an obscenely colorful trio, evidently my prep team. And it's three women. Joy. As if this wasn't uncomfortable enough.

"Oh, you must be Marvel! It's so nice to meet you! I'm Terri!" says one.

"I'm Tracy!" interjects another.

"And I'm Treya! We're sisters," says a third.

Yeah, that's not going to be confusing. Jesus, even their outfits look the same.

"Nice to meet y'all," I lie. Somehow, I don't think this is going to be fun for me.

The next few hours make me a prophet. I'm stripped down and scrubbed and waxed and shaved and washed until I feel like they've taken my skin off and replaced it with someone else's. The only things they didn't shave were my head, my eyebrows and my legs. Apparently a sleek, hairless torso is the latest craze in the Capitol and the trio is quite eager to bring me up to speed on it. If I felt a draft before, I'm really feeling it now.

By the time they finally leave me alone to wait for the stylist, my head is spinning. I feel like I spent the last few hours surrounding by a flock a colorful, jabbering parrots. So much conversation about the latest fashion trends and who was sleeping with who and what conditioner would bring out the best shine in my hair. I shake my head and glance back towards my clothes, yearning to put the familiar garments back on, especially the wristband Striker gave me, my district token. It's crafted out of fine leather and has a detailed image of a spear burned into it.

Striker always did love hearing about training. Each day, as soon as I got home from the Academy, he'd ask me a million questions about exactly what went on. I freely gave every answer, knowing it was the least I could do. I always suspected Striker wished he could train for the honor of the games, even if me and his illness would never allow it.

Glancing in the mirror, I have to admit, the trio did a good job. My skin is cleaned up and almost glowing, stretched tightly across the well-defined muscles of my torso. My limited chest hair is now a thing of the past. The bags under my eyes are gone and my hair has a healthy shine I've never seen in it before. All in all, it's not too shabby. I do wish I could put some clothes on, though, but the trio informed me that my stylist must be able to see all of me to get my outfit just right. That or he/she just wants to see as many tributes as possible naked. Hell, maybe he's going on a tour, checking out all the best specimens this year has to offer, from me to Glimmer to Cato to Clove and all the way to Katniss. I wonder how she's handling this. If this makes me uncomfortable, I can't imagine how someone from the poorest district in Panem must be feeling. The thought of her naked is just crossing my mind when I hear the door swing open behind me.

In steps a portly, pale man with bizarre orange hair and a matching orange turtleneck. He studies my body from behind his spectacles like it's some difficult equation. Okay, maybe this guy is just in it to see the tributes naked.

"Hello, Marvel. I'm Antony, your stylist for these games," he says, extending his hand in faux friendliness.

I take it anyway and force myself to just go along with it. "Nice to meet you. So…you got any great ideas for the parade?" I ask.

"A few, although I must say your body is giving me a bit of trouble. I designed so many excellent options, but I think you'll be too tall to fit into most of them," Antony says, rubbing his chin in contemplation.

Sorry I can't change my genetics to accommodate your designs. We can't all be fat and have that magnificent orange hair of yours. Damn, I wish I could say that out loud.

"Well, no matter. Don't worry, Marvel. I've overcome far more problematic tributes than you and I can certainly handle this," Antony says as he continues to pace around, prodding various points of my naked body.

"Um…thank you. So, you've got something that'll work, right?" I ask. Let's hope so. As much as it sucks, you don't want to underperform at the parade, way too many sponsors watching.

Antony grins like a cheshire cat, revealing two rows of gleaming white teeth. "I most certainly do," he answers.

* * *

Okay, Antony has let me down more than the elevator today. His great idea amounted to spray-painting my entire body and hair silver and slapping on a silver tunic. I look like something you'd see when you're on morphling, not a deadly tribute. Still, I can't totally suppress my laugh when Glimmer joins me on the elevator down to the chariots clad in the same ridiculous outfit. Wow, it's even hiding her beauty. I can tell by the way her face is tightened that she's pissed and that only gets worse when she sees me stifling a laugh.

"Not. One. Damn. Word." she hisses, her eyes burning a hole in the side of the elevator.

Ah poor Glimmer. Her greatest attribute, her looks, has been stifled. Cashmere will probably turn it around with the interviews, but still. For somebody going the Finnick-route and depending on their sex-appeal to win, she's not off to a great start.

The doors part to reveal a dozen chariots and various tributes milling around in goofy outfits. Seeing some of the other fashion choices, I feel a little better about being turned into a silver statue. No sign of District Twelve yet, but I can see Thresh hanging out by his chariot, smiling for once as he talks to his little district partner. Even in that stupid outfit, he still looks intimidating. Better keep that to myself, though. It's a fight to the death and if you show fear, your enemy will exploit it and let's face it…everyone her will be my enemy eventually.

"Marvel, come on! I see District Two," says Glimmer as she grabs my painted arm.

The pair from Two both lean against their chariot with their arms crossed, radiating a _Don't fuck with me_ attitude. I'm actually kinda jealous of their costumes. The black gladiator armor makes them look fierce and deadly, like the warriors they are. Antony is such a dick.

"Hello there," purrs Glimmer seductively, "District Two, right?"

Cato and Clove both turn their imperious gazes on my district partner.

"I assume you're District One," says Cato flatly, his icy blue gaze going back and forth between Glimmer and I.

"That we are. I'm Glimmer," she says, batting her eyelashes at Cato, who just grunts in response.

"I'm Marvel," I say. Wow my voice sounds bored.

"I'm Cato and that's Clove," he says, gesturing to the short, yet threatening girl beside him.

"Well, we were so impressed with you guys, we were wondering if you were up for a career-alliance this year!" says Glimmer cheerfully.

Cato shrugs. "Why not. You both look strong. If we stick together, we'll dominate like always," he says with a cocky smirk. I find myself making an effort not to roll my eyes.

"What'd y'all think of District Four? I'm not exactly blown away," says Clove with a frown, her eyes drifting to the net-clad pair a few chariots away.

"District Four's usually useful. They can probably use spears and tridents," says Cato.

Clove frowns. "I don't want any dead weight around. If they aren't going to be useful, then they're out. The same goes for you two," says Clove ominously, her dark eyes making me really uncomfortable. Something about her really doesn't seem right.

"You don't have to worry about that. We both placed first in the Academy. I did quite well with a bow but I've got other skills," says Glimmer, her gaze falling suggestively on Cato.

"What about you?" asks Clove, "You don't talk much do you?"

No, I just prefer to talk to people I actually like. Yet another thing I wish I could say. Somehow, I think she might respond violently to something like that. Just a guess.

"Spears. I was the best with them," I say flatly. Clove nods, but Cato raises his eyebrows.

"We'll have to see about that," he says with a wicked smile.

"What should we do about Four?" Clove asks, impatient her first question wasn't answered.

"Let's watch them a bit during training and make a decision from there. I also want to see what the guy from Eleven can do," says Cato, leaving no room for argument. I guess he's already proclaimed himself leader.

 **ATTENTION TRIBUTES! PLEASE GET TO YOUR CHARIOTS! THE PARADE WILL BE STARTING MOMENTARILY!**

I bid my new…friends goodbye and return to my chariot. The good thing about going out first is you always get a lot of attention. It's impossible to get lost in the shuffle like the other districts. The Capitol loves us anyway, so it shouldn't be a problem.

I cast a glance behind our chariot, seeing all the other chariots falling in line. Good. The doors part in front of me and the horses start moving. Make way for the new victor.

I stand firm and put my most genuine smile on, waving at the brightly-colored, screaming masses that line the parade-route. Even in these outfits, the Capitol still loves District One. The ride through the streets of the Capitol is quick and before I know it, our chariot has reached the end.

The smile drops from my lips when I hear commotion behind me. I look back and spot what looks like a glow in the distance. What the hell? It keeps getting brighter and the crowd keeps getting more frantic. Then my jaw drops so fast I'm amazed it didn't fall off. There they are, the pair from District Twelve…on fire.

It looks real too. Then they clasp hands and raise them up in a show of solidarity. The crowd goes nuts again. Damn…they're good. Here I was thinking Glimmer knew how to work a crowd.

I can hear her seething next to me. I can't help but smile. Somebody's not too happy they're spotlight was stolen. It affects me too, but I don't plan to rely solely on sponsors. At least, not like Glimmer. I didn't learn how to throw that spear for nothing.

At last, Twelve arrives and sits there calmly, listening to the President's speech…on fire. I have to admit, Katniss looks stunning and actually kinda deadly, the black makeup making her grey eyes look fierce. Combined with the flames, it's pretty effective. Cato and Clove are both staring too, but they look like they're already envisioning ways to kill the girl from Twelve.

Her gaze momentarily flickers across our faces, but pauses on mine, probably surprised by the lack of contempt on my face. She looks curious, her owl-like eyes staring back at me, but as quick as it's there, it's gone and I find my chariot heading in to unload us.

"I can't believe this! I'm ready to kill them both right now!" screeches Glimmer as she dismounts the chariot.

"Would you calm down? It's just the parade," I say. Sponsors are nice, but the games are never decided right there. The games are won years in advance by those who put in the most time preparing, a cold hard fact that doesn't exactly favor Glimmer.

"Calm down! The goddamn mine rats just showed us up on national television! They need to learn their place!" she retorts, her shrill voice hurting my ears a bit.

"It's just the parade. Just do well in training and the interviews and everything will be fine," I say. I don't really care about how she does or how she feels, but at this point I'd tell her the sky is green and the grass is blue if I thought it'd get her to shut up.

"Fine, but I'm getting them first in the arena," Glimmer huffs before storming off, probably back to the apartment.

Far back, I can see District Twelve's fire being put out by their stylist, a surprisingly normal looking guy for the Capitol. Damn, I wish he was my stylist. He probably could've come up with something more creative than silver body paint.

I glance over at District Two. Yep, they still look pissed. It seems District Twelve is already in trouble.

* * *

 **A/N: District Twelve is playing with fire and our hero isn't exactly among friends. Not good. As always, all reviews, favorites and follows are greatly appreciated.**


	3. Chance Encounter

"What the hell were you two doing out there? You let District Twelve steal the goddamn show! District Twelve!" barks Gloss the moment we step inside our apartment.

"It's not our fault we had such crappy costumes!" retorts Glimmer.

"It's District Twelve! You should've been able to wear a burlap sack and still look better," says Gloss, "Now, we've gotta play catchup."

Christ, he doesn't have to be so dramatic. Their costumes were better. So what? It's not like it'll stop a spear.

"Those two look a lot better than last year's. Most tributes from Twelve look like they've never eaten a full meal a day in their lives, but those two have a little meat on their bones," says Cashmere thoughtfully.

Gloss snorts. "It wasn't that way when I competed. In my games, those skinny bastards didn't last five minutes," he says with a grin that reminds me of Clove.

"You think they've got any other surprises?" I ask.

"Hell no. All they've got going for them is a good stylist and less-starved bodies than usual," says Gloss dismissively.

How can he be so confident? Hell, Thresh is from Eleven and he may be the biggest threat in the games, other than Cato.

"I can't wait to get them in the arena," says Glimmer bitterly, crossing her still silver arms.

Cashmere looks thoughtful, the wheels evidently turning in her head. "I doubt they've got anything, but keep your eye on 'em. If you sleep on your opponents, you're gonna get your throat slit," she says.

Huh, Cashmere definitely seems like the smarter of our two mentors. Too bad I'm technically stuck with Gloss.

"Ah Cash, when'd you get so paranoid? You used to be so cocky," teases Gloss.

"And you still are," she retorts, "I've just seen enough tributes ignore the outer districts and it comes back to get 'em."

"Cash, I do believe you're talking out of your ass," chuckles Gloss, drawing a laugh from Glimmer who turns the same gaze she used on Cato on our mentor.

Oh good lord.

"You won't be laughing if some outer district kid you ignored ends up killing you," Cashmere says hotly as Glimmer and Gloss laugh louder.

I take that as my opportunity to slip out of the room. At least Prue is still screwing around at the Capitol parties. Still, there's only so much of Glimmer and Gloss I can take. She bent my ear on the elevator about every flaw she imagined District Twelve and all the ways she was considering killing them, while I had to keep my mouth shut. I can't turn on these people…at least not yet.

I hop in the huge walk-in shower and start scrubbing the silver paint off my body and hair. Damn. If Antony did one thing right, he made the paint durable. I start pressing random buttons on the control panel, hoping to find something. The water switches from hot to cold and back again, changes pressure and discharges shampoo before a green button finally brings out the body-wash that does away with the silver paint.

I'm not sure how long I've been in here, but I don't really care. The shower's washing all the tension of the past few hours away and carrying it down the drain. I scrub my entire body and wash my hair thoroughly. My freshly-scrubbed and shaven body tingles in the sauna-like heat. Too be honest, it feels pretty good. I almost forget I'm in the Capitol. I could be back home in the locker room shower after a hard training session and I've got friends and trainers waiting for me outside instead of Glimmer and Gloss.

By the time I step out and dry off, it's late. I peek my head out the door and notice the others dozing in front of the television while Caesar Flickerman drones on and on about the parades and the suddenly popular girl on fire: Katniss.

I can't help but smile at that. Girl on fire. Not a bad nickname, although Glimmer's not going to be too happy about having even more spotlight stolen from her.

This is the perfect time to explore my temporary home. I slip on a t-shirt and shorts and creep out the door. The hallway's empty, no sign of peacekeepers or tributes. I slink over to the elevator as stealthily as my lanky frame will allow me to and enter. Choices, choices. I don't want to run into any trouble, so the other tribute's floors are out. The roof beckons and at the push of a button, I'm on my way.

In seconds, I stroll out onto the roof of the Training Center. It's pretty well furnished, complete with a garden. It's a hell of a view too. All around me, I can see the brightly lit buildings of the Capitol, stretching up into the dark sky that overflows with stars that shimmer like my ridiculous silver body paint. This is nothing like home.

I walk to the edge and look down, immediately feeling dizzy. I've never been up so high in my life. Over twelve stories below me, the lights of the street all blur into one glow. I pick up a small rock from the garden and drop it over the edge. Too my surprise, it flies back at me, nearly hitting me in the face. Damn, I guess the Capitol really doesn't want any of us dying if there's no one to film it.

It's nice up here, but a little cold. I'm about to head back inside when I notice a door off to the side of the elevator. I poke my head in and get a nice surprise. It's a pool and an unbelievable one at that, complete with an elaborate grotto and a small waterfall that looks like something you'd find in a jungle. I dip a foot in the clear blue water and find that it's heated. Okay, that's it. I'm swimming.

I throw my clothes off and jump in wearing only my underwear. I can always get another pair. Good thing the Academy taught us how to swim. I was always amazed when I watched film and saw how many of the tributes couldn't swim, which usually prompted the gamemakers to flood the arena just for kicks. But right now, I don't care about that. I'm just floating in the soothing water. There's no Glimmer. No Gloss. No Prue. No Clove. No Cato. And no Capitol. I'm here right now and I'm going to enjoy myself for one of my few free remaining evenings.

I find my way over to the shallows and lean against the fine granite that borders the pool. This is an excellent moment, one of those rare moments so perfectly serene that you wish you could live in it forever. Just for tonight, I'll be away from the games.

* * *

When my eyes open, I'm still in the pool. How long have I been here? I know I must've fallen asleep but there's no clock. Let's hope Gloss hasn't noticed me sneaking out or I'm in for a lecture.

I climb out and dry off before quickly redressing, my underwear unfortunately still wet and dripping down my thighs. Oh thank god, it's still dark out, not even the slightest hint of morning on the horizon. Must still be a few hours away. I'm about to call the elevator when I notice something, a solitary figure sitting near the edge of the building. Curious, I walk over to see the girl of fire herself, back turned and gaze fixed out over the still lit city.

"Excuse me," I say in my friendliest voice.

Katniss jumps anyway and turns her grey eyes on me, which immediately narrow in suspicion.

"What'd you want?" she asks shortly, her voice sharper than any weapon I've ever trained with.

"Just to sit down. May I?" I ask, keeping my smile.

She still looks suspicious…and confused. Maybe it's because I haven't made any threats to kill her yet. Y'know, the usual career shit. She nods reluctantly and I sit beside her, stretching my long legs out as I stare at the sky.

"I'm Marvel, by the way," I say, flashing my brightest grin.

"Katniss," she answers flatly, her eyes watching me the same way a deer would watch a wolf.

"Nice night, isn't it?" I ask cheerfully.

She raises an eyebrow at me, but answers anyway. "I suppose it is. I'd rather be home, though," she says.

"Yeah, you and me both," I say, a hint of sadness seeping into my voice. I know my mission, but I still miss everyone and everything familiar. My room. My house. My parents. Striker especially.

"Don't you want to be here? Isn't this like…your lifelong dream or something?" Katniss asks, sounding more confused.

I chuckle. "Don't believe everything you hear. Some of us have better reasons to be here than personal glory," I say.

"What're yours?" Katniss asks, apparently still suspicious. Then again, who can blame her. District One hasn't exactly been a friend of District Twelve in the past.

"My family mostly. They need this," I answer. I can tell by the look on her face that she's surprised and, dare I say it, interested.

"What's wrong with them?" she asks.

I sigh before answering. "Too many hours. My father used to work mining diamonds, but he…he lost his hand in an accident and has to take what he can get. He mostly takes whatever temp work he can get in our warehouses. My mother tries to pick up the slack cleaning homes and doing people's laundry, but we're barely getting by," I say.

Katniss must've picked up the sincerity in my voice because she looks sympathetic, especially when I mentioned my father.

"I didn't know District One mined diamonds," she says quietly.

"Well sure. Did you think we picked 'em off trees or something?" I ask with a laugh that Katniss, despite her best effort, can't keep from spreading.

"I guess I just never thought of it. Everyone's a coal-miner back home, so that kind of takes all our focus," says Katniss.

"Is that what you wanted to do?" I ask. After what happened to my dad, I can't imagine mining being an appealing job to anybody.

She just shrugs. "There's pretty much nothing else to do in District Twelve other than mine coal and avoid the Hunger Games," she says matter-of-factly.

I can't suppress a smirk at that statement. "Not to be a dick, but you seem to have failed that last part," I say jokingly.

The look Katniss gives me wipes the smile right off my face. She just looks depressed now…thanks to me reminding her where she is. Suddenly, I don't have a very high opinion of myself.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…I was just messin' with ya," I say lamely, trying to alleviate my guilt.

"It's alright. You didn't mean a thing by it," she says quietly before sighing and looking back towards the starry sky. "I get what you said about family. I just wanted to save my sister."

I think back to that, how she volunteered. It was probably the most noble thing I've ever seen. Hell, Katniss doesn't seem stupid. She knows the odds are never in District Twelve's favor. Look at me for god's sake. Even growing up poor in District One, I was far better off than most of the people in Twelve, receiving three square meals a day and valuable training at the academy. Compared to Katniss and the other kids from the outer districts, the odds have always been in my favor.

"Yeah, I saw what you did at the reaping," I say, for once unsure of how to proceed.

Katniss' sharp grey eyes flicker back to me, the suspicion returning full-force. "If you're going to tell me what an idiot I am or say anything about my sister, you can go ahead and leave," she snaps.

I know that emotion, that protectiveness. That feeling that you'd do anything for your little sibling, who looks up to you like you're some kind of superhero, more powerful than any weapon Snow could ever fashion.

"That wasn't where I was going at all. I just wanted to say that it was one of the most courageous things I've ever seen," I say earnestly.

Katniss' head turns quickly towards me, sharp grey eyes softening and studying me for any sign of joking. There's none there and she must see it to. Her mouth twitches into a sad smile.

"Thank you," she says quietly.

Her grey eyes now look friendlier than before, not so fierce. Her long dark hair is shifted right, forming a silky curtain on the other side of her face, exposing her delicate features. She looks…beautiful.

Wait, what am I doing? She's another tribute and not even a career. Tradition says we should be fighting right now or at the very least threatening each other, yet that isn't happening and that makes me happy for some reason.

Katniss stays silent a few more moments before getting up to return to her apartment.

"Goodnight, Marvel," she says, smiling at me once before walking off toward the elevator.

"See ya in training tomorrow. Oh and Katniss," I say, watching as she turns back towards me.

"Yeah?" she asks.

"Try not to set anything on fire on the way down," I say grinning slyly. Katniss scoffs and laughs at the same time before disappearing down the elevator.

I head down soon after, sneaking into my apartment with stealth that would make the President's spies jealous. Lying in bed, my face feels funny, like it's contorted. I put my hand to it and realize that it's a smile…one that hasn't left my face since the roof.

* * *

 **A/N: Uh oh. Training begins soon and our hero isn't exactly committed to the Career mindset. Special shoutout to Dreaming of Starry Skies for being the first to review. As always, all reviews, follows and favorites are greatly appreciated.**


	4. Friction

In my dreams, I'm lying on a beach, perhaps in District Four. Perhaps not. The strangest thing is that I've never been to the beach, only seen footage on television. Who cares. All I know it that it's nice and cool here. Not cold like the Capitol, but comfortable with a soft breeze and bright sunshine that warms my skin.

I stretch my limbs out and feel the powdery sand beneath me. There's no sound but the waves breaking and the occasional call of a seagull. I wonder if the water's warm like the water in the pool. I'll have to try it if I can ever find the willpower to get up.

The next thing I know, I'm being shaken. Through the peaceful fog of sleep, I hear my name, uttered in a familiar Capitol accent. Damn it, go away.

"Marvel, get up! You don't want to miss the chance to show off in training do you?" asks Prue.

I groan, knowing that she's actually right about that. Training's probably the only thing tributes go through before the arena that isn't complete bullshit.

Prue leaves me alone once I get up. I find my training outfit, a sleek black shirt with red trim on the shoulders, black cargo pants and black boots. Leave it to the Capitol to still make sure our training outfits are fashionable. I smooth my messy brown hair and head out.

Gloss and Cashmere are both enjoying breakfast, but Glimmer's tapping her foot impatiently by the door.

"I thought Glimmer would be the one holding y'all up for beauty sleep. How late were you up last night?" asks Gloss as he butters a piece of toast.

"Not that late. I guess I was just tired from the parade," I lie. They'd skin me alive if they knew I was up late conversing with the enemy.

"Well, be less tired then," huffs Glimmer, "You may not care, but I want to make a good impression, especially on District Two."

Yeah, I bet you do. I just noticed some slight…alterations in Glimmer's training outfit, particularly how my pants are a bit baggy while hers are skin-tight. I guess Cashmere's working her angle in everything she does.

I grab an apple before Glimmer drags me out, hurrying toward the elevator as our mentors continue to enjoy breakfast. She doesn't speak to me on the way down, tapping her foot and casting annoyed glances at me every few seconds. I guess I slept a bit longer than I thought.

We get in just as the head trainer calls all the tributes over. Evidently we were the last to arrive. We stand beside Cato and Clove, who simply nod at us.

"Glad you all could make it. My name's Atala and I'm the head trainer here," says the strong looking woman we're all clustered around, "First, I want to lay down some ground rules. No fighting with the other tributes. You'll have plenty of time for that in the arena. If you want to practice, we have sparring partners."

I notice Cato frown at this statement and turn his cold gaze onto the small boy from Five, who pales immediately.

"You're free to go to whatever station you choose, but my advice is don't ignore the survival stations. Everyone always wants to grab a sword, but exposure can kill as easily as a knife. You're more likely to die from dehydration than you are in combat," cautions Atala. It makes sense, but I can hear my fellow careers chuckling beside me. As long as nothing happens to the supplies at the cornucopia, I suppose it isn't relevant to them.

I glance back and notice District Twelve slipping in. Huh, I guess we weren't last. Katniss looks completely stoic but her district partner, some blonde guy with the build of a wrestler, looks nervous. Both of them are making a conscious effort to avoid looking towards me and my so-called friends.

After she's done speaking, Atala set us free. Cato immediately grabs a sword and begins hacking dummies apart with clinical precision, receiving praise from Glimmer and terrified stares from many of the other tributes. Clove plants herself at the knife-throwing station and deters everyone else with her deadly accuracy. For someone over a foot shorter than me, she's actually pretty intimidating, like an evil little gnome or something.

As for me, there was only one place I would go. The station has so many spears I don't know which one to try first. I pick one up and feel it's weight in my hands before turning and sending it down range. I can't help but smile as it pierces a dummy's chest, right where its heart would be.

I throw a couple more, each one hitting bullseye. Damn I'm good. Up here, at this station, nobody can touch me. Not even Cato. I notice Cato watching the girl from Four use a trident while Glimmer tries to get his attention. I roll my eyes and pickup another spear, only to be joined by another tribute: the boy from Four.

I notice him weighing one of the lighter spears in his hands. He looks young, probably around fifteen.

"You sure you can handle that, kid?" I ask with a grin. I notice his eyes narrow at the word kid. Someone's sensitive.

Instead of answering me, he hurls the spear right into a dummy's gut. Not a heart-shot, but still a lethal hit. Not too bad.

I nod in appreciation. "Care to have a friendly competition?" I ask.

"Let's go, One," says the boy with a smile I've noticed on the other careers before.

We each throw ten spears. The kid's good, a lot better than I expected. He manages to hit a dummy each time, but ultimately can't match my bullseyes. A lot of the kids from the outer districts look like they're about to shit themselves.

"I'm impressed, Four. Spears your thing back at the academy?" I ask as I remove my spears from the brutalized dummies.

The boy scoffs. "I didn't go to an academy. I picked this up working as a harpooner," he says.

Interesting. This kid could probably feed himself in the arena if anything happened to our supplies.

"What about you? You go to an academy or did you pick that up making jewelry?" he asks with a grin.

"Academy. I've never made jewelry a day in my life. Name's Marvel," I say, extending my hand.

"Lewis," he says, shaking my hand.

"Well Lewis, I think we just might have a spot for you in the career alliance. Come on, let's go talk to Cato," I say, strolling over with Lewis trailing behind me.

"What was with the hold-up? I thought District Four always rolled with the careers," says Lewis.

Yeah…except Clove thought you might've been weak and what District Two wants, District Two gets.

"The others just wanted to observe you guys a bit before we brought you into the fold; make sure you had something to offer," I answer.

"I get you, but your district partner hasn't even picked up a weapon yet. What the hell does she have to offer?" Lewis asks incredulously.

"Take a wild guess," I say with a laugh, noticing Cato's large hand slithering over Glimmer's ass.

"Hey Cato, I've got someone for you to meet," I say, prompting him and Glimmer to turn towards us. Cato's neutral, but Glimmer looks annoyed I interrupted.

"This is Lewis from District Four. I think we should bring him onboard," I say.

Cato looks Lewis over from head to toe, probably not thrilled with Lewis' average physique.

"What can you offer?" asks Cato flatly.

Lewis looks a bit nervous, but meets Cato's gaze. "I'm good with spears and tridents…and fishing skills if you want them," says Lewis.

"I can vouch for his skill with spears. They're not up to par with mine, but they're good," I say, grinning as Lewis shoots me a look.

Cato sighs. "Alright, you're in. Go get your partner and tell her we've got a spot for her if she wants it," he says.

Lewis hurries off, clearly eager to show Cato he can be a loyal soldier.

"You sure you want her too?" Glimmer asks, frowning as she glances over at the girl from Four.

"Yes and don't question my decisions," he says sharply, "They'll both be an asset, especially if Thresh doesn't join us."

"What about Thresh?" says Clove, walking over from the knife station.

"Just wondering if he'll come with us. If not, he's our first target," says Cato.

I see Thresh looming around the fire-making station, dwarfing everyone around him. Shit, let's hope he joins us.

* * *

Lunch reminds me of school in a lot of ways. Our merry band, now two members bigger, quickly annexes a table and scares everyone else off. I try not to think about how I'm basically a member of a clique and take a seat on the edge, next to Lewis and opposite Brooke, the girl from Four.

Lewis seems alright and I don't know a thing about Brooke, but the other careers are getting on my nerves. I just eat and try to ignore the incessant talking about their grand victories over inanimate objects. Glimmer takes every opportunity to flirt with Cato, batting her eyelashes and leaning into him.

Oh, it's gonna be real awkward when he tries to kill her.

My eyes drift over the various tributes scattered around the lunchroom. Most are eating alone but a few, like Katniss, are sitting with their district partners. I spot Thresh sitting by himself, his dark gaze burning holes into the back of Cato's skull.

"Alright, Glimmer, you go and ask Thresh if he wants to join us," says Cato.

"Why me? Why can't you send Marvel?" whines Glimmer.

I can't really fault her for not wanting to talk to Thresh, but that doesn't mean I like being thrown under the bus.

Cato gets that angry look again. "Because he's not gonna want to fuck Marvel, that's why! You have the best chance at convincing him, now get to it!" he snaps.

Glimmer slowly gets up and heads over to Thresh's table, hiding her nerves behind a smile. I think we're all a little scared of the giant from Eleven, even if none of us would ever admit it.

"I got a cookie that says she flips her hair," says Clove, watching as Glimmer approaches Thresh.

"I'll take that action, you little midget," responds Cato, "I say she sticks her hip out."

Surprisingly, Clove laughs. I would've thought anyone who called her a midget would get a knife in their crotch. They must be closer than I suspected.

"Anyone else want in on this? Last chance?" asks Cato, a rare genuine smile on his face.

"No thanks," I answer.

Lewis just shakes his head and continues eating.

"Ah what the hell. I'm in. I say she puts her hand on his arm," says Brooke.

Everyone watches Glimmer intently. She's smiling brightly and going through the spiel. Thresh, however, doesn't look like he's enjoying her company.

"C'mon, flip your hair," whispers Clove eagerly.

"Don't you do it. Stick your hip out," chuckles Cato.

"Touch his arm. You know you want to," joins Brooke.

Just for a moment, they seem like the teenagers they are. It's almost like I'm back at school, listening to some goofy bet among classmates instead of training for a fight to the death.

The conversation doesn't look like it's going well, then Glimmer flips her hair, drawing a quiet cheer from Clove and groans from the other two as they hand over their cookies. Moments later, Glimmer heads back, looking defeated.

"I hope you're happy!" she fumes at Cato.

"I'm guessing he said no," says the large boy, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah! He said no and he threatened to come after me first if I bothered him again!" she seethes, sitting down but not snuggling up to Cato like she did before.

Clove just laughs, savoring her spoils. "At least I came out ahead in this," she says.

"Okay, if Thresh is out, we're going after him first right?" asks Lewis, finding his voice again.

Cato nods as his face stretches into another one of those wicked smiles. The ones that betray no actual happiness; creeps me out just to look at it. "Definitely. That bastard just signed his own death warrant," he says

I hope we're up to the task. Despite everyone's confidence, Thresh doesn't look like he'll go down easy.

* * *

Training drags on after that. I throw a few more spears, mess around on the rope course and foolishly agree to try the sword station with Cato. It's a good thing we're not in the arena or he'd have killed me and it wouldn't have even been close. In close-combat, he's gonna be a problem.

Right now, me and Lewis are just bashing dummies' heads in with these spiked maces. Sure it looks cool and probably scares some of the other tributes, but it quickly loses its appeal.

I glance over and notice all the survival stations. I suppose I should give them a try. I don't plan on sticking with the careers forever, so I'll need to be able to take care of myself.

"Where are you going?" calls Lewis, as I walk off.

"Survival stations," I say, "Gotta be prepared for anything."

Lewis just rolls his eyes and goes back to smashing dummies. The other careers are busy with the combat stations and don't even notice me.

Let's see, knot tying station? Not particularly useful.

Camouflage? I don't plan on hiding.

Fire-making? What's the point of that? I'm sure whenever I split with the careers, I can manage to slip a book of matches into my pocket.

I'm about to go to the fishing station when I notice a certain dark haired tribute frantically rubbing two sticks together to start a blaze. Against my better judgement, I can feel myself heading over.

"You can't go a minute without setting something on fire can you?" I ask, my voice friendly again.

Katniss stiffens and turns to look at me, surprise all over her face.

"What are you doing over here, One? Don't you have some dummies to destroy," she says sharply.

One? Huh. It was Marvel just a few hours ago.

"We did. We're kind of running out," I respond, "So I thought I'd come try to learn some valuable survival skills."

Katniss just shakes her head as I kneel down and start trying to make my own fire. Damn, this is a lot harder than it looks. After about ten minutes of rubbing sticks together, I'm not making any progress.

I hear Katniss chuckle at my futility. I look over and notice her getting a small blaze going.

"Something funny, Twelve?" I ask, adding extra emphasis on the number.

The corner of Katniss' mouth twitches upwards ever so slightly.

"Actually, yeah. For all your training, you can't make a simple fire," she says, "What do they even teach you in those academies?"

"Weapons, weapons and more weapons. You can guess which one I was good with," I say. She must've seen me and Lewis throwing because she nods.

"So, what about you?" I ask.

Katniss raises an eyebrow. "What about me?" she asks.

"What are you gonna do for the games? Are you gonna try to just outlast all of us or are you gonna grab a weapon and mix it up?" I ask cheerfully. I'm just teasing, but Katniss looks nervous for some reason, like the answer would unravel something.

"I'll probably just hang back and take the opportunities I can get," she says evasively.

I think there's more to it, but I'm not sure what.

"You sure? You sure you don't wanna grab a mace and take us all on? It'd make for some interesting television," I say with a laugh.

Katniss laughs a bit, but pauses, as if something important just occurred to her.

"Why are you talking to me? Don't your friends forbid it?" she asks, spitting the word "friends" out like it's poison.

"I can talk to whoever I want. Cato may lead the pack, but he can't control who I will and won't speak to," I say, rubbing my sticks together harder in hope of igniting a blaze.

Katniss nods in understanding and adds a few more twigs to her growing fire.

"You're weird for a career," she says.

"How so?" I ask, still intently focused on my sticks, which are finally producing a little smoke.

"You don't act like them and you're not here for fame. Every District One tribute I've ever seen was a vain, cocky brat that stepped on people who'd been starved most of their life," says Katniss.

Wow. I guess the fire isn't just a costume.

"Not everyone in District One is like that, you know? I get it, most of our volunteers are rich brats who've never struggled for anything a day in their lives, but that's not everyone. It's certainly not me," I say.

"I'm sorry," says Katniss.

"It's fine. District One hasn't exactly extended a hand in friendship to anyone from the outer districts in the past. Still…people can surprise you," I say, finally getting a spark to catch. I quickly blow on it and feed it dry moss. Soon, I've got an actual fire going.

"Not bad, Marvel," says Katniss.

"Oh, so it's Marvel now instead of One?" I ask with a cheeky smile that Katniss returns.

"As long as you don't call me Twelve," she quips.

She glances off to her right and suddenly looks uneasy. Oh shit. Looks like someone's noticed us talking. If it's Glimmer…or worse if it's Cato, I'm in for it. Fortunately, it's just the blonde guy I recognize as Katniss' district partner. He doesn't look too happy staring at us though. It's a weird combination of anger and genuine concern.

"I'll see you around, Marvel," Katniss says before she strolls off to talk to her district partner near the camouflage station.

They seem to be talking about something serious, like there's some real trust there. What I can't quite figure out is why that bothers me.

* * *

 **A/N: How long can our hero keep befriending the opposition before it blows up in his face? His new friends aren't exactly the forgiving type. The Careers are actually the most fun to write because, in my opinion, they have the more dynamic personalities. As always, all reviews, follows and favorites are greatly appreciated.**


	5. Observations

Training's been relatively boring today. Once again, we're just destroying dummies faster than the trainers can grab them and scaring the shit out of the other tributes. It's basically a repeat of yesterday. Well, not quite…I haven't talked to Katniss at all.

It's not that I don't want to, but her district partner, who I find myself starting to dislike for some reason, hasn't left her alone. Maybe I'm imagining it, but it seems like he keeps throwing the suspicious glances my way, but he turns his head so fast I can't confirm it. Just a feeling.

Cato and Glimmer are at the sword station again. Well actually Cato's at the sword station and Glimmer is just there to compliment him. Maybe she's hoping that if Cato likes her, he'll protect her in the arena. I highly doubt that, but it's her funeral.

District Four is busy dominating the fishing station while the trainers lavish them with praise. The other tributes are just milling around without purpose, all but Thresh too nervous to pick up weapons with the careers around. I can't blame them.

I find myself at the throwing knife station, where Clove is the unchallenged queen.

She smirks as I pick up a throwing knife. Asshole. I spot my target downrange and let the knife fly. It's a decent throw, sticking in the dummy's torso. It's not one of Clove's perfect heart-shots but it's good.

"I thought you were completely useless without a spear," chuckles Clove without looking over, "You'll be glad to know I'll be revising my assessment of you."

"Great," I answer dryly, throwing another knife that sticks, "Maybe that'll teach you not to underestimate anyone."

Clove scoffs. "My assessments are usually spot-on. Take you district partner, for example. I can tell she's a rich brat coasting on her looks. All she's done is follow Cato around without actually touching a weapon. What'd she say her weapon was?" asks Clove.

"Bow," I answer, throwing again.

"Ah right. Bows. She hasn't even touched one yet. I wouldn't count on her to be much use in the bloodbath," says Clove.

"So why keep her around?" I ask.

"Sponsors. They love a pretty little tribute like her. Pity her looks won't save her when the time comes," answers Clove with that wicked smile that no longer surprises me.

Damn she's cold. I don't even like Glimmer and I'm certainly not going to put myself at risk to help her, but it sounds like Clove's already plotting her death. Hell, she's probably already plotting mine too. I need to watch my ass around this girl.

"You sure are a good time, Clove. You know that?" I say sarcastically.

Clove doesn't miss it and sends a blade into a dummy's forehead. "I'm here to win by any means necessary. Anyone who doesn't have that attitude doesn't stand a chance in the arena," she says before pausing, "Do you have that attitude, Marvel, or are just a pawn?"

What a bitch. Trust me Clove, I won't have a problem dealing with you _when the time comes._

"Don't you worry about me. I plan on seeing my family again," I say, matching Clove's cold tone.

Let's just hope I'm not in a coffin when that happens.

* * *

Once again, I find myself cruising the survival stations. There's been a few interesting sights, like the little girl from Eleven flying through the rope course with ease and Katniss' district partner hurling one of the heavier weights after eating shit in the agility course. There hasn't been much else, though.

I end up giving the fishing station a try and find that do have some ability. I get to use a spear and a fish really is just another target. The trainer looked surprised to see me, a career, but took it in stride, praising me when I succeeded but correcting me when I did something wrong. Hopefully, this'll help keep me alive when the cornucopia is no longer an option.

Katniss and the blonde dude are hanging out at the camouflage station. Thresh is messing around with the heavier weights. I notice some ginger girl by the edible plants station. I think she's from Five…or is it Six? Aside from the major players, everyone else just gets lost in the shuffle.

I watch with mild curiosity as the ginger girl, who I can now see is from Five by the patches on her shoulders, takes the edible plant test. Wow, she got every single one right. Judging by her size, she's probably planning on hiding out and hoping we all kill each other off. As she turns, I briefly catch her gaze. She looks sly, like she knows something we all don't. I make a mental note keep my eye on her before taking her spot at the station.

Once again, the trainer looks surprised but proceeds anyway, holding up dozens of plants and informing me which ones are safe to eat and how to tell. You have to check for all kinds of things, flower color, leaf shape, lateral or vertical veins. Christ, it feels like I'm back in school, yearning to get a spear back in my hands. I force myself to pay attention anyway. Extra food never hurt anyone in the arena.

After about an hour of the trainer lecturing, I take the test, getting 83% correct. Not bad, but it could still get me killed. I suppose I'll avoid eating plants until it's absolutely necessary. I consider taking it again, only to be distracted by the sound of Cato's angry voice.

"Hey! Where's my knife?!" he asks sharply.

He's not talking to me, fortunately. I can see him squaring up with the boy from Six, one of the larger non-careers.

"What knife?" the boy asks.

This kid's about to get his ass kicked.

"My knife! I know you took it!" barks Cato, getting angrier and shoving the boy.

"I didn't take shit!" yells the boy, returning the shove.

In seconds, they're all over each other. Peacekeepers rush in to break up the fight, while all the other tributes quickly circle around them. It reminds me of the fights in school, nobody intervening but everybody interested.

The peacekeepers manage to pry the two apart, although it takes two to restrain Cato.

"Fine! I'll wait 'til the arena! You'll be one of the first ones I get!" he barks as Glimmer and Clove try to calm him.

I look over and spot Katniss smirking, her eyes fixed above us. I follow her gaze and see the little girl from Eleven, laying in the suspended nets and holding Cato's knife. She flashes a mischievous grin and I notice Thresh let out a deep, rumbling chuckle.

Huh. This girl just might make it beyond the bloodbath

* * *

"So how'd it go?" asks Gloss as Glimmer and I return from training for the day.

He's sprawled out on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table like a king.

"It went fine, although Cato nearly started the games early," I say with a slight chuckle.

"What happened?" asks Gloss.

"He thought the kid might've taken the knife he was practicing with. Y'know, the stuff that usually warrants a death threat," I answer dryly.

Glimmer makes a face. "Don't act like that loser didn't deserve it. If he wasn't in deep shit before, he is now. He doesn't stand a chance against Cato," she says with some misplaced pride.

"You think Cato's that formidable do you?" asks Gloss.

"Well sure! He's the best and I haven't seen _anyone_ who can challenge him," she says, glancing at me smugly at the word "anyone".

"That's too bad because he'll probably be able to kill you once the numbers are down," says Gloss as he tosses back a drink.

Glimmer noticeably stiffens.

"What? You didn't forget about that part did you?" asks Gloss, smiling ear to ear.

"Whatever. Where's Cashmere?" asks Glimmer, her voice exposing her annoyance.

"Downstairs I think. Talkin' to Prue about something," says Gloss nonchalantly, turning his attention back to the television.

Glimmer leaves with a huff, not even bothering to change out of her tribute clothes and casting an angry stare over her shoulder as she goes.

Gloss just chuckles. "Ah women. You got any sisters, Marvel?" he asks.

"Can't say that I do. I've got a little brother, though," I answer.

Gloss nods. "Well, growing up it was just me and Cashmere. We both ended up in the games, but we did it differently," he says.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"We played differently. There wasn't much bullshit when it came to me. I came, I saw, I conquered. Cash was a different story through," says Gloss.

"She didn't dominate?" I ask. There's no way she didn't, right? Gloss and Cashmere are two of the most famous victors in Hunger Games history. Anytime they visited the academy, everybody reacted like gods had descended from heaven to mingle with us mortals.

"Oh she did…but she played people and the games. I watched her on TV that year, charming every male she came across, from Caesar to the sponsors to the other careers. And she fooled 'em. Each one thought she genuinely cared for them…right up to the point when she slit their throats," says Gloss.

Sounds like a weird mixture of Clove and Glimmer.

"Jesus," I say.

"Pretty cold shit, right? Do you know why I'm telling you all this, Marvel?" asks Gloss.

I shrug. "Because you enjoy talking about it?" I guess.

"No doofus, I'm trying to make a point. The point is that the girls, especially the good lookin' ones, are probably playing a much deeper game than you realize. Take Glimmer, for example," he says.

"What about her?" I ask.

"She's sucking up to Cato, right?" asks Gloss.

I'm not sure where he's going with this. It seems pretty cut and dry.

"Yeah," I confirm.

"Well, why do you think she's doing that?" asks Gloss, looking increasingly serious.

"I assumed it was a combination of attraction and Cato's ability to protect her," I say.

What else is there?

Gloss rubs his chin. "Maybe. Maybe not. It could be any number of things. Glimmer could be just lookin' for a good time or she could be planning something. Maybe she's trying to charm Cato into killing the rest of you in your sleep. Or maybe she's trying to get his guard down so she can take him out. Or maybe she's working with someone else and trying to lead y'all into a trap," says Gloss.

I certainly never thought of it like that. But there's no way. Glimmer's just screwing around…right?

"That's an…interesting way of looking at things," I say, suddenly doubting my way forward.

"Do with the advice what you will, but since you're my tribute, I just thought I'd give you a warning. You can work with people in that arena, but never let your guard down and never trust them completely because I promise you they are thinking about your death. It's just how the games are," says Gloss, before picking up his drink from the coffee table and walking out, patting me on the back as he goes by.

* * *

I lie awake that night, turning one way and then the other, trying to get comfortable enough to sleep, an impossibility given the state of my thoughts. Is Glimmer just playing dumb, getting us all to dismiss her as idiotic flirt, so that she can take us all out? Maybe I'm reading way too much into this. It actually makes me appreciate Cato and Clove, who've been openly hostile and haven't even made an attempt to conceal their intentions to win by any means necessary. At least with them, I know where I stand.

And what about District Four? Brooke isn't a problem because we don't talk and I have no inclination to trust her right now, but what about Lewis? We've gotten along well and I actually enjoy his company, more than I can say for any of my other allies. But once again, is there a reason he's been nice or is he just being nice? Is Lewis planning on taking me out by acting like he's my friend and then putting a spear in my back? Then again, he needed my support to get into the alliance and has been aiming to please since then, not exactly indications of an evil mastermind. Still, the possibility can't be ignored.

Christ, I'm becoming paranoid. I look over at my clock. It reads 2:16 a.m.I groan, remembering I'm going to have to be up at 7:00 a.m. for the last day of training, which includes my private session with the gamemakers.

I completely forgot about that, my private session, the fifteen minutes that will determine my score, which can make or break a tribute. No pressure. Okay, obviously I need to throw spears, but should I diversify and show some other skills or just put all my focus in my best one? I suppose I could hit a few survival stations, probably fishing, throw some knives and then save the spears for my big final, but I could also run out of time and not get to show off my greatest skill.

I continue lying there, trying to will myself to sleep. No luck. I guess I've just got too much on my mind to sleep. Maybe I can get some extra practice in. Technically, we're only supposed to train during the designated training hours, but I highly doubt they've got guards posted, especially at this time of night.

Once again, I sneak out, slinking through the apartment like a snake, careful not to wake anyone. To my relief, the elevator's unguarded. I slip in and press the button down to the training level.

Once down, I check again for guards. None in sight, but then I notice something: the door to the training room is open ever so slightly Odd. It's hard to imagine the trainers and peacekeepers leaving it like that. As I walk closer, I hear the distinctive sound of something hitting a target. Someone's in there.

Probably one of my fellow careers getting some late-night practice in. If I had to guess, I'd say Clove. Cato doesn't use projectiles much and I don't think the others have the tenacity to sneak in some highly illegal practice like this. If it is Clove, I may want to see what she's doing. Maybe she's practicing another skill she's been hiding and I'd rather find out now than in the arena.

I crack the door open a bit wider and peek inside. It's dark, minus one section. The archery section is lit up and occupied by a lone tribute. Looks like a girl…a girl that's really damn good with a bow. With finely tuned precision, the mystery tribute quickly draws arrow after arrow from her quiver and sends them into the hearts and heads of the unfortunate dummies downrange. Damn, is that Clove? Looks like a brunette, but with her back to me I can't confirm. That's the last thing I need, Clove being extremely deadly with another weapon. As if she wasn't deadly enough already.

Then the tribute turns to the side and my jaw hits the floor. It's not Clove's face I see, but it's a face I know. The owl-like grey eyes that stand out in the darkness, the mouth tightly drawn into a frown and the long dark hair out of its usual braid. Katniss.

I fucking knew it! Just as I suspected, there's more to the girl on fire than she let on. There it was, hidden right under everyone's nose, a game-changing, deadly skill nobody suspected thanks to District Twelve's crappy Hunger Games record. And with this late-night practice, I bet I'm the only one who knows.

I close the door and silently slip back into the elevator. I head to the roof, where I can think. The grotto is waiting for me, unoccupied as usual, yet another thing I am the sole beneficiary of. Which brings me back to what I came up for: what to do with the information about Katniss.

I flop down into one of the chairs. Hmm. I could report what I know to my fellow careers and ensure that she doesn't get armed, effectively eliminating one threat from the games. But that doesn't really help me and screws Katniss over, which bothers me for some reason, so I rule it out. I could try to blackmail her with it and get her to take people out for me, but I doubt Katniss would go along with something like that…especially in the arena where there are no rules.

Then it hits me, the solution to all my problems. I can't help but smile now. I've got a plan.

* * *

 **A/N: Oh shit. The cat's out of the bag and our hero is doing some scheming of his own. Will it be enough or is the opposition just too strong? As always, all reviews, favorites and follows are greatly appreciated.**


	6. Game Changer

The sun's barely up and I'm already on the elevator, a fixed destination in mind: the 12th floor. After going back to my room last night, I barely slept, continuously going over everything I was going to say. I'm going to have to really sell this plan to get District Twelve, a place about as similar to District One as a desert is to a tundra, to commit to it.

The doors open on a hallway identical to mine and all the other hallways that lead to tribute apartments. The smooth wood of the apartment door stares back at me. Here goes nothing.

I knock and wait. No answer. I knock again. No answer still. Oh c'mon, I know it's early but someone has got to hear this. I'm in the middle of my third knock when the legendary victor and alcoholic, Haymitch Abernathy, opens the door, looking surly and ungroomed as ever.

His look of annoyance quickly morphs into one of surprise and suspicion. His dark eyes narrow at me and a frown appears on his unshaven face.

"I think you got the wrong room, kid. District Two is ten floors down," he says, making it obvious he's not glad to see me.

Really? The floors match the district numbers. Nobody, not even Glimmer, could screw that up.

"I'm not looking for District Two. I'm exactly where I intended to be," I say calmly.

"Well, what the hell do you want?" he asks gruffly.

"I need to talk to Katniss," I answer.

His eyes widen a bit at that. "Look jackass, if you came up here this early just to try and scare her, I admire your dedication, but you're wasting your time," he says.

I suppress the little bit of anger I feel at his assumption. After all, what I'm about to do is unheard of for a District One tribute.

"I'm not here to threaten her. I honestly just need to talk to her," I say.

Haymitch still looks suspicious. "Can't it wait 'til training? They need sleep, y'know, especially with the private sessions coming up today," he says.

That makes this even more urgent. I suspect once those training scores come out, Katniss will be on the career radar and I won't be able to get this plan together.

"I know, but this isn't something I can risk others overhearing. Can you tell Katniss to meet me on the roof in ten minutes?" I ask.

Haymitch is silent for a moment, his dark eyes burning holes into mine. C'mon man, I need this.

"Fine. I'll get her up, but don' try anything or I'll be sure you regret it," he says before closing the door, a loose string of profanity still audible behind the wood.

Huh. For a drunk, he's pretty committed to his tributes.

* * *

Jesus it's cold up here. The sun's just rising above the sleek buildings, but it hasn't warmed up much yet. Reminds me of my morning runs, back at the academy. I find myself wishing that's where I was instead of here. I could be just waking up, climbing out of my warm bed to have breakfast with Striker and my parents before heading off to train. Instead, I'm here, surrounded by thousands of freaks and twenty-three other teenagers who've all gotta go if I'm ever gonna see my family again.

I try not to think about the fact that for me to see my family again, all those other families will lose their loved ones. Katniss, Lewis, Brooke, the little girl from Eleven, Thresh and all the other tributes will never hug their parents and siblings again. Hell, I even feel bad for the ones I don't like. They still have people who'll miss them.

I hear the distinctive sound of the door opening behind me. I turn to see Katniss standing there, still wearing pajamas and looking more suspicious than ever before, which is saying something.

"Ah Katniss, glad you could join me," I say, hoping to be charming.

It doesn't look like it's working.

"What do you want, Marvel?" she asks, raising one dark eyebrow at me.

I glance around. I really can't risk anyone coming up here and catching me, especially Cato and Clove.

"Follow me," I say simply and start heading toward the pool nobody seems to have discovered. I glance over my shoulder to see Katniss isn't following.

"Why?" she asks, her eyes narrowing.

"Because what I'm going to say is very sensitive and we're both dead if anyone else finds out about it," I say harshly. I know I should be more understanding, especially when you consider the past relations between our districts, but I just really need her to hear me out.

Katniss still looks skeptical, but follows me anyway. I hear her gasp when we enter the grotto.

"This place is amazing," she says, her grey eyes running over every part of the room.

"It certainly is. I discovered it on my first night and no one else knows about it. Comes in handy when you're trying to avoid your district partner," I say.

"Okay, we're in private. Now, what are you up to?" asks Katniss, the suspicion back in full force.

I simply turn towards the pool, admiring the lush plants and the blue waterfall. I have to do this just right.

"I had a feeling there was more to you, girl on fire. A lot more. Everyone else seems to think you're just a girl from a poor district that lucked into a great stylist…but I know better," I say, keeping my gaze fixed forward.

I can see Katniss' reflection in the pool. She looks a bit nervous.

"Come again?" she says, trying to sound surprised, but not completely pulling it off.

"You heard me. You've been hiding a secret weapon, something that's going to drastically change the outcome of the games," I say calmly. I can see her reflection stiffen.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she says and turns to leave.

"I think you do. Tell me, how'd you get so good with a bow in District Twelve?" I ask with mock cheer.

I turn to face her and see that her grey eyes have gone wide and her fists are clenching. Damn, she looks ready to fight.

I hold up my hands in defense. "Don't worry. Nobody else knows, but I wanted to talk to you before the private training sessions. Something tells me you're going to surprise everyone," I say.

Katniss takes a deep breath. "So you know what I'm good at. Fine. What do you want?" she asks.

"It's not about what I want. It's about what I need…and what you need," I answer.

"Stop speaking in riddles and just tell me what you want!" she snaps.

"An alliance," I answer simply. Her anger quickly morphs into shock and, for a moment, she's at a loss for words.

"Why do you want to ally with me?! You're already working with the most-deadly tributes in the games!" she says incredulously.

"That's exactly why I want an alliance with you. They're deadly, but I can't trust them and eventually that deadliness is going to be working against me," I say.

"Oh what, and you trust me?!" Katniss spits back.

"More than them! We're far from best friends, but…yeah I trust you more than them," I answer sharply. This really isn't going how I hoped.

"Why?" she asks, looking confused instead of angry.

"I guess because of what I saw you do for your sister. Somebody who does something that selfless isn't someone who'll slit your throat in your sleep," I answer. Katniss must hear the sincerity in my voice, because her face softens.

"I-I don't think it's a good idea, Marvel. There's no way it can work, especially with the careers hunting down everyone else," she says, her gaze flickering away.

"That's why we have to work together! Otherwise, District Two is just gonna wipe everyone out like always. If you're worried about secrecy, don't. I assume you'll be hiding out in the woods and that's perfect. I can sneak off to meet you every once in a while and we'll try to find ways to pick the other careers off. With your archery and my unparalleled ability with spears, we just might pull it off," I say, sounding like a damn salesman as I say it.

"You may trust me, but who said I trust you? Is this just some complicated plot to take me down?" asks Katniss.

Goddamn it. This is a good plan, just work with me.

"Katniss, if I wanted to take you down, I would just rat you out to the careers and we'd destroy every bow at the cornucopia, but that's not what I'm doing. I know you want them gone and so do I. We stand a much better chance of going home if they're out of the way, so why not work together?" I press.

"Have you forgotten how that would end, Marvel?! Assuming this all works, we'd be the final two and we'll have to kill each other!" Katniss fires back.

I sigh. "Katniss, odds are that one of us will go down long before then, but that's no reason we can't help each other. I know you want to see your sister again, just like I want to see my brother again. If we work together, I've got a good feeling at least one of us will get to do that," I say. This is my final plea. I've thrown out all my arguments. If she says no, I'm without an ally. If she decides to inform the careers what I've been planning, I'm a dead man. Maybe I should've thought this through more.

"Okay," she says quietly.

"What?" I ask, unable to keep the excitement out of my voice.

"I'm in," she says simply.

I feel great. I feel ecstatic. I let out a cheer that surprises Katniss and I surprise her even more by wrapping her up in a giant bear hug, lifting her thin frame off the floor in my excitement.

"We're gonna flip this game on its head! No one, and I mean no one, is going to see this coming!" I laugh.

Katniss chuckles in my arms. "Can you put me down?" she asks calmly.

I'm sure I look embarrassed as I realize I'm still holding her. I quickly put her down and notice her face has gone red, sticking out against her long dark hair.

"Sorry 'bout that," I say lamely, rubbing the back of my neck.

"It's fine," she says, "So…what's the plan for today?" she asks.

I'm really grateful for the subject change. "I guess you should just keep doing what you've been doing. Don't attract attention during group training and then let it fly during your private session. Think you can do that?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

Katniss just smirks. "There's not a doubt in my mind, spear-boy," she quips.

This is perfect. District Two won't know what hit 'em.

* * *

Training went as scripted. Me and my temporary allies destroyed dummies, threatened younger tributes and did all the usual shit, while Katniss blended in as much as she could. By now, only Glimmer is still pissed about the parade. Everyone else is focused on their private session and the score that will either bring in sponsors or leave them high and dry.

Now, we're just waiting. Once again, I'm among my fellow careers, sitting at our table in the cafeteria, waiting to be called in for our private sessions. I have to admit, I'm a bit nervous. I can't decide if I should try some variety or focus on spears since it's what I'll do best at.

Lewis and Brooke look a bit nervous. If the others are, they don't show it.

"All right, be honest Clove, what do you think you're gonna get?" Cato asks in that teasing tone he only uses with his district partner.

"I better get at least a ten," she says, frowning at the thought of anything less.

"I don't know about that. Midgets don't usually look very intimidating," teases Cato.

"Bite me," she says back with a smirk, "You better hope the arena doesn't require any agility or maneuvering. I don't think a big, clumsy oaf such as yourself would fare too well in a place like that."

"I bet I can get a ten no problem," says Glimmer, evidently feeling left out of the conversation.

Cato snorts. "Good luck with that…What about you, fish?" he asks, using his favorite name for Brooke and Lewis.

Lewis just shrugs. "I'll do the best I can," he says simply.

Cato just rolls his eyes in response and looks at Brooke.

"I guess everyone wants a ten. I could live with a nine, but ten's the goal," she says.

Her response reminds me of why I can never find it in myself to hate District Four. Although they are careers, there's a big difference between them and the others. I think it's mental. They just don't have that insufferable arrogance and inclination towards cruelty that the others have.

"Marvel? You in there?" asks Clove, snapping her fingers in front of my face.

"Sorry. I must've zoned out," I say.

Clove rolls her eyes. "We were just asking you what you think your score will be," she says.

"I'll just do my thing and take the score they give me," I say with a shrug. Like them, I'm hoping for a high score, but I don't feel the need to engage them in conversation.

"Let me know how that works out for you," says Clove dryly, drawing a shrill laugh from Glimmer.

"Just ignore him. He's always been weird and quiet like that," says Glimmer, "I remember this one time…"

I zone out again after that, not hearing whatever story Glimmer's telling about our days at training. Even back then, I wasn't fond of my comrades. They were all like Glimmer, rich, arrogant brats that only wanted to compete in the Hunger Games for fame and fortune…even though they already had the latter of those two. They never knew what it was like to actually have something worth fighting for, something worth sweating for, something worth bleeding for. That's why I beat them. Anytime they were complacent, I wasn't. Anytime they took a day off, I didn't. It was all about motivation.

I know it's my destiny to win these games. I just know it, deep in my bones. I have no delusions about how hard it will be, but I can take it. I have to. I have to so my father won't have worry about what hard labor a handless man can do for a day's wages. I have to so my mother won't spend her days slaving away for people like Glimmer and her family. I have to so Striker won't grow up the crippled boy from the poorest part of the district. Who knows, maybe I could afford Capitol treatments for him and he'd never need those damn crutches again. That's why I have to win and it gives me more fire than anyone else here…except maybe Katniss.

I have to admit, I see some of myself in her. Maybe that's why I wanted her as an ally so badly. Sure part of it was her skill, but I talked to her before I even knew that. She's one of those people that you can't help but admire and you're drawn to her. She radiates courage in the face of overwhelming adversity. You could tell the moment she volunteered for her sister, fully aware that the odds were never in District Twelve's favor. Thinking back on the reaping, Katniss never wavered.

I feel a small twinge of sadness at the thought of my victory, knowing that Katniss has to die for that to become reality. She doesn't deserve a fate like that. She deserves to see her family again, as do most of these poor kids.

I think back to the conversation Katniss and I had this morning and how she agreed to work with me. I can't help but smile as I remember how excited I'd been. So excited that I'd actually picked her up. I can't deny how good it felt to hold her like that.

Wait, what?! Where the hell did that come from? The games are already fucking with my head. They must be. Christ, I hope I don't lose it like that maniac from District Six a few years ago.

"Marvel, District One!" bellows a peacekeeper, entering the cafeteria.

It's time. One good thing about being from District One is that I get to go first, when the gamemakers are still sober and alert. Hopefully Katniss will still get their attention when it's her turn. I get up without a word to my allies and follow the peacekeeper back toward the training room. I pause at the door and take a deep breath.

I've trained for this. I'm ready. Failure is not an option.

I open the door and stroll inside, remembering the only decent piece of advice Prue has ever given me: keep your chin up and show pride. I look up to see the gamemakers all watching me intently, including Seneca Crane himself. Wow, that beard is something.

"Marvel Maddox, District One," I announce, making sure my voice sounds powerful.

Seneca Crane nods, his imperious gaze never wavering. "You may begin, tribute Maddox," he says.

I need no further invitation. Fifteen minutes. I've got exactly fifteen minutes to sell myself. I've got it all planned out. I hurry to the edible plants test, something that's sure to be a surprise for a career. Fortunately, I remember most of my mistakes from last time and finish with 90% correct.

I don't stop to see if they're impressed. I bypass the fishing station and pick up the throwing knives. I spot my targets downrange and start throwing, carefully remembering how Clove did it. I don't have her accuracy, but it's nothing to scoff at. I never miss a target and most of the knives end up in the dummies' torsos. A few even hit the dummies right in the heart.

I spot the clock and see I've only got five minutes left. Time for the grand finale. The spear station is waiting for me. I pick one up and, with the flawless motion that only comes from hours of practice, let it fly. I can't help but smile when I see it bury itself in a dummy's head fifteen yards downrange. I'm like a machine after that. I pick up spear after spear and send them all into the heads and hearts of my enemies. I don't see anything but the targets and I don't hear anything but the sound of spear meeting plastic. After a while, I'm not throwing at dummies. I'm throwing at Cato…and Clove and Glimmer and Seneca Crane and even President Snow.

My focus is finally shattered by the sound of the horn going off and the sound of applause from the gamemakers. My time's up, but I made the most of it. Downrange, there's not a dummy left without a spear in its head or buried in its heart. If those were tributes, Snow would already be placing the victor's crown on my head.

"Thank you for your time, gentlemen," I say as I walk calmly from the room, just catching Seneca Crane's smirk as I turn my head.

That couldn't have gone any better. Nothing left to do now but wait for everything to fall into place.

* * *

We're all sprawled out on the couch later, awaiting the announcements. Glimmer keeps prattling on about how well she did while Cashmere tries to give her advice for the arena. Gloss pesters me a bit about what I did, but lets me be after a few short answers. I know I did fine, but what about Katniss? She's already at a disadvantage being from Twelve. If she's going to get any sponsors, she need a good score.

I suppose it cuts both ways, though. If she gets a good score, she'll become a target, just like Thresh. Damn, it'll be hard to plan together if we're out hunting her most of the time. Maybe I'm worrying about nothing. It would take something pretty spectacular to take their focus off Thresh. No matter how well she did in the parade, it's hard to look more threatening than that guy.

"It's starting," says Cashmere, shushing Glimmer.

We all look to see the legendary Caesar Flickerman appear on the screen in his usual freaky clothes. Claudius Templesmith is beside him and they're laughing about something I don't quite catch.

"Finally, the training scores are in! All our beloved tributes have been assessed and tonight we'll know where they all stand. I don't know about you, but I'm excited," says Caesar, flashing his pearly-white smile.

"I don't know how you couldn't be, Caesar. These scores are of the utmost importance. The winner of the games almost always has a high one," says Claudius.

"Well, without further ado, let's get to the scores," says Caesar.

Glimmer's haughty face appears on the screen beside Caesar.

"Glimmer, from District One, with a score of…nine."

Nine? Wow. I wonder how much clothing she had to take off to get that. The others are so busy congratulating her that they almost miss the next tribute.

"Marvel, from District One, with a score of…ten."

"Well done," says Gloss, clapping me on the back. Cashmere also nods in approval, while Glimmer just rolls her eyes, evidently upset at being surpassed.

This couldn't be going any better. I'm so pleased that not even Cato and Clove both receiving tens can bring me down. Brooke and Lewis both receive nines. Not bad at all. That sly looking ginger girl gets a six. The kid Cato threatened, the boy from Six, gets a six as well. I guess Cato won't have too much trouble fulfilling that promise.

I don't notice any of the others until we get to District Eleven. The little girl, whose name is revealed to be Rue, gets a seven. Have to admit, I didn't see that one coming, although she did show she's not sniveling coward by messing with Cato. Thresh gets a ten, no surprise there.

"Next, Peeta, from District Twelve, with a score of…eight," says Caesar.

So that's his name. Peeta. He looked strong when he threw that weight. That was probably enough to get him that score, unless he's got something up his sleeve like Katniss.

"And last, Katniss, from District Twelve, with a score of...eleven."

Damn…and I thought ten was a good score. Judging by Glimmer's face, the careers have a new number one target. If she thought this was a nasty surprise, just wait. The games haven't even started yet.

* * *

 **A/N: Our hero has found an ally, but how long can it last with the Careers out for blood? A special thanks to all my readers, especially those who review. As always, all reviews, follows and favorites are greatly appreciated.**


	7. Confession

"Get up!" barks a harsh voice.

I roll over and squint at the clock. It's 2:17 a.m. My sleepy eyes can just distinguish Glimmer standing over me in the darkness, her green eyes glowing like a cat's.

"Go away," I mumble, rolling back over and smothering myself in the blankets. I can guess what this is about, but don't these people have anything better to do? Like sleep?

Glimmer responds by ripping the blanket off my bed, leaving my body completely exposed to the cold air. It's a good thing I don't sleep naked.

"I said get up! Cato's called a meeting and we all need to be there!" says Glimmer sharply.

I sit up slowly and stare back at her with the most bored expression I can muster.

"You running errands for Cato now?" I ask dryly. "What's next? You gonna fetch him his slippers?"

"Shut up. Just 'cause you tied his training score doesn't mean he's not still the leader. Meet us up on the roof in five minutes or you're out of the alliance," she hisses before walking out.

Damn it. I quickly throw some clothes on. As much as I dislike my alliance, I need it for the early part of the games, especially if I'm going to try and take them out. If I don't roll with the careers, there's no way I'll be able to get my hands on a spear.

I hustle to the elevator and head up to the roof. I step outside into the cool air, suddenly wishing I'd brought a jacket. All the other careers are already up here. Cato and Glimmer are glaring at me while Clove and District Four just look bored.

"Glad his majesty could join us," says Cato, his icy blue eyes somehow colder than usual.

"Gentlemen, ladies…and Clove," says Cato, prompting the smaller girl to flip him off, "We have a serious problem."

"That's a bit of an understatement," mutters Clove, playing with I small knife I didn't know she had.

"What are we gonna do about the bitch on fire?" asks Glimmer, spitting the words out bitterly.

Cato sighs. "I'm not sure and I have absolutely no idea how she got that eleven. Did any of y'all see her do anything…interesting during training?" he asks.

"Nope," I say.

"Not really," says Clove, still flipping the knife in her hand.

Lewis and Brooke just shake their heads.

"She stuck mostly to the survival stations," says Glimmer.

"Yeah, but tying knots and learning to make fire won't get you an eleven, dumbass," scoffs Cato.

We're silent for a moment. Everyone else looks deep in thought, desperately trying to figure out what I already know.

"Okay, so she's hiding something, something deadly. Anyone have any ideas what I might be?" Cato presses.

One of us does, but…he doesn't need to know that. Everyone else is silent.

"Well that's great. That's perfect," mutters Cato, running his hand through his blonde hair.

"Is she target number one now or is it still Thresh?" Clove asks.

"I guess it's still Thresh. The girl may be good at something, but she's not big," says Cato.

"We should try to get her at the cornucopia anyway. I'd love to stick her with an arrow," says Glimmer.

I can't suppress my laughter at that statement. "You better hope she stands still for you then," I choke out.

"Screw you!" Glimmer hisses, her green eyes blazing, "I got a nine in training! The gamemakers looked pretty satisfied!"

"Yeah, I bet they did," I retort, my face stretching into a grin.

I can tell by the way she flushes with anger that I've gotten under her skin. I notice her oncoming fist just in time and step back. Cato steps in between us and pulls his fling/future victim back.

"Calm down, blondie. Fighting amongst ourselves isn't going to help us take down Thresh or the girl on fire," says Clove like an annoyed older sister.

"I hate you!" spits Glimmer from behind the wall that is Cato.

I just roll my eyes in response.

"Look, if you've got a problem, settle it later in the games. Going into the bloodbath, we have to be unified. Understand?" Cato says, the dark emphasis on the last word giving everyone pause.

Glimmer looks down. "Fine," she says, obviously still angry.

"Back to the cornucopia," says Clove, "I wouldn't risk missing Thresh or losing supplies to get her. If the opportunity presents itself, go for it, but don't let that distract you from securing the supplies. The last thing we need is for the rest of those scrubs to get weapons."

Her tone leaves no room for argument. I just hope Katniss avoids death long enough to help me out. At least, I think that's why I hope she avoids death.

"Smart thinking, midget," says Cato with his usual smirk.

We all ride back down after that. Cato, Brooke and Glimmer take the first elevator. Lewis, Clove and I take the second. Lewis hangs back, trying to avoid drawing Clove's attention. I think he's scared of her.

"Marvel, stop messing with Glimmer," says Clove flatly.

I snort at that. "What? Are you in love with her too?" I ask dryly.

"No and neither is Cato. He may be trying to hook up with her, but he'd slit her throat in a second to win," she says, sounding annoyed.

"I'm really glad you're telling me all this," I say.

"Look jackass, I don't like her and I don't like you, but we need to work together to take the others out at the cornucopia We can't be divided like this, so…stop pissing Glimmer off or you'll regret it!" she hisses.

We reach the fourth floor and Lewis gratefully slips out. Clove doesn't speak to me again until she gets off at the second floor.

"Remember what I said, One," she says.

Her dark eyes somehow look darker than before, more threatening. I can't imagine what they'd look like if she knew what I was really up to.

* * *

I wonder if this is what hell's like. Maybe this is what's waiting for me if I die in the games. Endless grooming sessions by a Capitol prep team. Hours of more shaving, polishing, combing and exfoliating turns into several hours with Gloss thinking of an angle. In the end, it's nothing spectacular. He just tells me to be charming, funny and confident, pretty standard career behavior for the interviews.

Finally, Antony shows up with my outfit. It's actually not too bad, a slick blue suit with a matching tie. I'm glad I'm not a female tribute. Their outfits are always a lot more complex.

It's finally time. I check myself one last time in the mirror and make sure everything is in order before heading to the elevator. Glimmer left a while ago in that completely sheer dress of hers. Cashmere didn't have much trouble thinking of a way to sell her to the sponsors. I'd feel bad for her if she wasn't such a bitch.

I tap my foot as I wait for the elevator. Just like the parade, this is important even if it's bullshit too. The interview needs to go well. I never was the best actor, but I can certainly pull off Gloss' charade…at least I hope so.

The elevator door opens and my jaw drops. Standing inside is the girl on fire herself and…she looks incredible. Her stylist continues to impress. Her dress shimmers with bright flecks of orange and red, almost like it's actually on fire. Her dark hair is pulled up in some elaborate style with her bangs swept off to one side. Her face has light makeup on it, emphasizing her sharp grey eyes and her pink lips that are drawn into a smirk.

"You coming or what?" she asks with a slight chuckle.

Snap out of it, you idiot.

"Uh…yeah," I manage, joining her on the elevator.

The door closes, isolating us from everything.

"You look stunning," I say without thinking. Goddamn it, what's wrong with me? I haven't felt this stupid since…actually I'm not sure I've ever felt this stupid.

Katniss blushes, her skin matching her dress. "Thanks. You look good too," she offers, looking at my suit.

I notice she starts biting her fingernails, which actually have a pretty interesting flame design on them.

"I don't think your prep team would appreciate that," I say with a chuckle.

Katniss looks at me like I just caught her stealing and lets out a sigh. "I guess I'm just nervous," she says.

I nod in understanding. "I get that. I just hope I don't embarrass myself out there," I say.

Katniss swallows nervously and doesn't answer. For some odd reason, I want to help her out.

"You don't have to be nervous, though. It's the Capitol. They aren't hard to entertain. Just…relax and it'll be fine. Hell, you could even try being cocky," I suggest.

"You think I could pull that off?" she asks, arching a dark eyebrow at me.

"With your score, no doubt. Well done by the way," I answer.

Katniss smirks again. "How pissed were your buddies?" she asks.

I can feel my face stretching into a grin as well. "Let's just say they're quite eager to put the fire out," I quip.

Katniss nods and is about to speak when the elevator dings, signifying we've reached our destination.

"I'll go out first," I say, "Wait a minute or two before leaving. If they figure out we're working together, we're both in a world of shit."

Katniss nods and I step out without another word. Most of the other tributes have already arrived and are milling around backstage. No sign of Peeta, but Thresh and Rue are both hanging off by themselves. I spot the other careers and they wave me over.

"Everyone's favorite late-comer," drawls Cato as I walk up.

"Hey," I say simply, putting my hands in my pockets. Cato's dressed in a light blue jacket and black pants, but seems more focused on analyzing Glimmer's outfit.

Clove shoots me a look, reminding me of our earlier conversation although in her goofy orange dress, she's a lot less intimidating.

"Lookin' real good there, Clove," I say sarcastically.

Clove's dark eyes narrow and she smirks. "Wish I could say the same about you, One," she says.

"Whatever. How y'all feeling?" I ask, turning to the District Four tributes, who look surprised to be included in the conversation.

"Fine, I guess. I'm a little nervous," says Lewis, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You should be," Cato interjects with a wicked smile, "If you screw up out there, everyone will see it; your parents, your friends, your girlfriend, your neighbors…the entire country."

Lewis' face pales a bit, reminding me of how young he is. Despite his abilities, he's still just a fifteen-year-old kid and Cato knows he can get to him.

"Leave him alone," says Brooke sharply.

Huh, I didn't expect that. Brooke hasn't talked much during training and she certainly never risked crossing Cato.

"Or what, Four?" Cato sneers, "You gonna make me shut my mouth?"

I notice Brooke's hands clench at her sides. Clove and Glimmer both look mildly interested in the exchange while Lewis just continues to look nervous.

Cato takes her silence for an answer. "Ah, I thought not. Lewis, fight your own battles next time. There's no place for that weakness amo-

Cato freezes and gets that deadly expression on his face. I follow his gaze to see my secret ally getting off the elevator. She avoids their sharp stares and simply waits for the interviews to start.

"I can't wait to gut her like a fish," chuckles Cato, his unsettling gaze landing on Brooke while he said that. Too her credit, she doesn't shy away and glares back.

Finally, the rest of the tributes show up, including Peeta in a dark suit complete with some flame accents to match with Katniss. Once again, District Twelve's style is surpassing everyone else's.

We're quickly forced into a line for the start of the interviews. I end up with Glimmer in front of me and Clove at my back, something I hope never happens again. I feel vulnerable with District Two behind me. It's no secret they're gonna axe us when the time is right, unless we pick the right time to haul ass.

Eventually, the signature music starts and Caesar Flickerman bounds onto the stage, wearing his usual blue suit and infectious smile. He quickly warms the crowd up, cracking a few jokes and talking about how exciting we're all going to be. I can't believe these people actually buy this.

"For our first interview, please give a warm welcome….to Glimmer!" announces Caesar.

Glimmer looks back at us once to smirk before strutting onto the stage like she owns it. Her interview is about as ridiculous as she is. She flirts with Caesar constantly, batting her eyelashes and striking the most seductive poses for the audience. I wonder how many parents are awkwardly trying to explain this to their children right now?

I know my parents will be watching, along with my brother and everyone else I know. I focus on my breathing to stay calm, taking deep breaths, holding them and then exhaling them quietly. This is the last hurdle. Then the arena, where there's no more bullshit. In there, it's all about who's the most lethal. Snappy outfits and jokes and poses don't mean a thing in there. That's where I'll shine.

Apparently the audience falls for Glimmer's incessant giggles and "sexy" angle. Caesar throws her hand up in triumph and she struts off to raucous applause. She shoots me a look as she passes, one that I ignore.

"Also hailing from District One, please welcome Marvel!" bellows Caesar.

Alright. It's time. I pull my shoulders back raise my chin and remember to stroll. I'm in no hurry. I'm confident. Everyone will see it.

I ignore the applause, cheers and blinding spotlights, focusing on Caesar as he shakes my hand and asks me to sit down.

"Well Marvel, how are you liking the Capitol so far?" he asks cheerfully.

Better not give the honest answer.

"It's certainly something, Caesar. The food, the apartments and especially the training facilities completely blew me away," I say, smiling and leaning back in my seat, trying to look casual.

"We try our hardest to be gracious hosts here, don't we folks?" Caesar asks, drawing another cheer from the crowd.

Oh yeah. You're real gracious…until we have to start killing each other to entertain you.

"Back to training, we were all very impressed by your score. Current projections have you as one of the top five competitors this year. How do you feel about that?" he asks.

"I'd say it's a little inaccurate," I shrug.

"And why is that?" he asks.

I pretend to examine my cuffs for a moment, like this conversation is trivial to me.

"Because I'm better than top five. I'm going to win," I say nonchalantly, prompting instant chatter from the crowd.

"Ooh, confident! I like it! And why shouldn't you be? A strong young man with a training score like yours should have no problem making it deep in the games. So Marvel, any particular strategies in mind for games?" prods Caesar.

Oh if only you knew.

"Can't tell you that, Caesar. I gotta save some surprises for the arena," I say smugly.

"Oh must you torture us?" says Caesar dramatically, drawing laughter from the crowd. "How about a weapon of choice? Can you tell us that?"

Why not? Everyone knows already.

"Spears," I say, "Anyone who saw me in training knows you don't want to be near me when I've got one."

I force a wicked grin onto my face, drawing more cheers from the endless rows of freaks in front of the stage.

"Wow, I'm nervous and I'm not even in the arena," says Caesar with a laugh.

"Keep it that way. You'll live longer," I banter back, getting Caesar and the entire audience to laugh with me.

"So Marvel, we all saw you volunteer, but what made you want to throw your hat into the ring?" asks Caesar.

"My family," I say without hesitation, "I promised them that I'd win and give them the lives they deserve."

I hear a few "awws" come from the crowd, but I ignore it. Thinking of my family has brought me down a bit. I hope they're not ashamed of me, getting up here and preening like the usual bloodthirsty career.

"That's very noble of you. So your family's eagerly awaiting your return…is anyone else?" says Caesar, waggling his eyebrows for extra emphasis.

"No. I never really worried about stuff like that," I say. It's the truth. For years, I've been all business, focused entirely on my training and not allowing any distractions.

"I find that hard to believe. What about your district partner Glimmer? Why, if I were twenty years younger-

I cut him off. "Caesar, if you were twenty years younger, you'd be forty and still way too old for her," I say with a smirk.

Caesar laughs and puts his hand to his chest. "Oh, how you wound me sir!" he says in fake agony. The audience is lapping this up.

"But seriously, I find it very hard to believe that a handsome young man like yourself doesn't have a special girl!" prods Caesar.

Special? Somehow, I find myself thinking of Katniss. She's pretty damn extraordinary and beautiful too, especially tonight. Damn it, I'm doing it again. Focus!

Caesar raises his eyebrows at me. "You look like you were thinking of someone there," he says with a pearly-white grin.

"Just thinking about the competition," I say with my best attempt at Cato's signature smirk, "They better be ready because I'm full of surprises."

Caesar chuckles and stands up beside me. "I bet you are. Ladies and gentlemen, Marvel!" he yells, raising my hand with his. I just smirk and stroll off to an endless stream of applause and cheers.

That went perfectly.

I consider heading up, but decide I'd better watch the rest of the interviews. Clove comes next. She's cool, deadly and plays a bit of the mysterious side. I guess she has to with her size. Cato comes next and he's as cocky and vicious as I'd expect from a District Two tribute. District Four does alright, but Lewis stutters and looks a bit awkward up there.

I hardly notice most of the following tributes. They all try to work their angles, some doing better than others but few making a great impression. Thresh is a bit interesting for his silence, answering all of Caesar's questions with yes or no despite the eccentric man's best efforts to get him to open up. Thresh doesn't really need to do anything else. His gargantuan size should have sponsors lined up around the block anyway.

Then comes one of the only interview I have genuine interest in. Katniss is a bit nervous at first, making her seem uncharacteristically ditzy. I shake my head at the lamb stew joke and the twirling. I guess the Capitol really is entertained by anything.

"Katniss, we were all very moved by what you did for your sister," says Caesar.

I'll say. It was probably the bravest thing I've ever seen.

Katniss still looks uncomfortable, but manages a thank you. I think Caesar is treading into sensitive territory.

"What did you tell her after that?" asks Caesar.

"That I would try to win," says Katniss with unmistakable sincerity.

"And try you shall. Ladies and gentlemen, Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire!" he yells, lifting her hand up with his and drawing the loudest cheers of the evening.

Katniss looks relieved as she heads back stage. She meets my eye and I smile at her. She returns it but quickly looks away. Probably for the best, especially with everyone around…but I still wish she hadn't.

I turn back to see her district partner heading onstage. I'll give the kid this: he knows how to work the crowd. He's funny and charming and does everything you have to in order to get sponsors.

"So Peeta, I've asked many of the male tributes this question and now it's your turn. Do you have a special someone waiting for you back home?" asks Caesar.

Peeta shakes his head sadly. "Not really. There's this girl I've had a crush on for forever, but I don't think she even knew I existed before the reaping," he says.

Damn, that must suck. I actually feel a bit for this guy.

"Well Peeta, here's what you do. You go in and win the Hunger Games. Then go home and there's no way this mystery girl can ignore you," says Caesar, drawing cheers of encouragement from the crowd.

Peeta just shakes his head again. "I don't think that's gonna work," he says.

"And why ever not?" asks Caesar.

"Because she came here with me."

For the second time that evening, my jaw drops. Katniss and all the other tributes look shocked as well. I think things just got really complicated.

* * *

 **A/N: Tensions are rising among the Careers, Katniss is has a target on her back, the start of the Hunger Games is imminent and now Peeta's confessed his love! As if everything wasn't complicated enough for our hero. One chapter to go before the arena. As always, all reviews, favorites and follows are greatly appreciated.**


	8. Final Hours

After leaving the interviews, I had this fantasy that I was going to get to bed early and get a good night's sleep before the games. Cato and Glimmer made sure that wasn't going to happen though. I'm lying in bed, trying to fall asleep, when I hear them stumbling into the hallway, Cato's deep chuckle and Glimmer's shrill giggle distinct even through the door.

I shut my eyes and hope that they go away. Of course they don't. I hear Glimmer's door open and close and the sound of something heavy being dumped on the bed. When the first moans start, I decide I need to leave. Those walls are about as thick as sheets of paper.

There's only one place I think to go. I throw my swimsuit and a t-shirt on before hopping onto the elevator and heading up to the roof. When the door opens, I'm surprised by the sight of Peeta, still in his suit from the interviews and now curiously sporting bandaged hands. I frown at the sight of him, unable to shake my annoyance at his declaration of love.

"What the hell happened to you, Loverboy?" I ask as he passes me to board the elevator.

"None of your business," he says as the door closes and he's whisked away.

I suppose I won't be seeing him again until the arena. The next time I see him, we may be trying to kill each other. I don't even like the guy, but I don't want to see him dead. I suppose I have to get used to the idea, though.

I'd like to tell myself that the games won't change me. I'd like to tell myself that I'll hold on to some piece, however small, of my humanity. I'd like to tell myself that, but there's just no guarantee. The games change you. You can't expect to run through an inferno and not get burned.

It's probably around midnight. The stars are all shimmering in the dark sky while flares of bright light and the indecipherable sounds of celebration rise up from the streets below. The Capitol parties are just beginning, foaming at the mouth for another Hunger Games.

What's wrong with these people? This isn't some glorious adventure for us and it's certainly not good television. I used to wonder how they could enjoy seeing people kill each other, until I realized that it's because they don't consider us people. To them, we're characters performing in some grand television drama. Our deaths have no purpose beyond the show. They may weep for us, but it's about as real as their plastic implants.

I decide to stop brooding and head into the grotto. I feel the warmth on my skin as soon as I enter. I look over towards the pool and see that I have company. Katniss is sitting in one of the large chairs, her back towards me.

I consider just saying hello, but I think I'd rather have some fun.

"What are you doing in here!?" I yell in my most threatening voice.

It works like a charm. Katniss almost jumps out of her chair and turns to look at me. Her look of surprise quickly morphs into one of annoyance.

"Damn you, Marvel! You scared the hell outta me!" she huffs before sitting back down.

"Oh come on. You can't break into my hideout and expect me not to mess with you," I laugh, taking the chair beside her.

"I wasn't aware you owned the place," she says dryly, her grey eyes idly watching the waterfall.

"So…I passed Loverboy on the way up here. Did I just miss some romantic rendezvous?" I ask with a chuckle that masks my own annoyance at the thought.

"No! We talked a bit, b-but it was nothing like that!" she says sharply.

She actually looks kinda cute when she's angry.

"Ooh, angry. Must've been a lover's quarrel. What's the matter? Did he get a little…handsy?" I tease.

Katniss looks mortified I'd even suggest something like that…and angry at the mention of Peeta's hands. I notice her fist clenching. She must be considering punching me in the face.

"Take it easy! Once again, I'm just messin' with ya," I say, holding my hands up in surrender.

Katniss sits back down, sighing and rubbing her temples in frustration.

"Hey, what's wrong? Was the hand joke that bad?" I ask.

"Yes, but it's not that. It's just…everything. I had enough to worry about with the games coming and now I've got to deal with this love thing too," she says, her voice weary.

"What? You think he's full of shit?" I ask.

"That's the thing. I don't know. I can't tell if he's being serious or if he's just trying to throw me off for the games," Katniss says, sounding increasingly frustrated.

"So…you don't love him?" I ask, trying to sound neutral instead of hopeful.

Katniss just shakes her head and I try to ignore the fact that her answer makes me happy.

"Me and Peeta never talked back home. The only time we ever had contact was when he saved me and my family," she says quietly.

Wait, what?

"Peeta saved you and your family?" I ask.

Kanitss nods. "It was after my father died. My mother was…sick and we had no food. We were close to starving and I ended up looking for some outside his family's bakery. Peeta…he intentionally burned some bread so that his mother would let him take it outside. Instead of giving it to the pigs like she said, he gave it to me," she says, her voice almost a whisper.

I'm completely floored. And I thought I knew pain. My father lost his hand, sure, and times have been tough, but at least all my family members are still alive and we were certainly never starving. Somehow, I find myself respecting her even more than I already did.

"I'm sorry. I-I didn't know about your father," I say.

"It's alright," Katniss says.

I can tell she's lying.

"How did he die?" I ask. I know I'm taking a risk. She could storm out right now, jeopardizing our fragile alliance, but I want to know. I want to help.

Katniss swallows a lump, obviously suppressing a lot of emotion. "Mine explosion," she manages.

"I'm so sorry. I can't even imagine how hard that must've been," I say.

I look into the cool blue waters of the pool, watching our constantly shifting reflections. Even there, I can see her heartache.

"Didn't your father have a mining accident too?" she asks, her sad grey eyes meeting mine.

"Yeah…he did. He lost his hand. A…piece of equipment crushed it. He nearly died of blood-loss," I answer, my mind drifting back to that horrible day. The only day my training was ever cut short. I suddenly remember sitting outside the room where they operated on my father, Striker and my mother both clinging to me as we all cried.

Katniss looks sympathetic. "I'm sorry," she says.

Then she surprises me even further. She comes over and puts her arm around me. It's a small act of kindness, but it means the world to me. Here we are, two tributes who should be planning to kill each other, sharing our pain and providing the best comfort we can.

"You don't deserve to be here," I say quietly.

"Neither do you," she says.

I shake my head. "I volunteered. Remember? I just wanted to help my family, but…I worry now," I say.

"About dying?" she asks.

"No…well sorta, but I worry more about surviving. I worry that for me to win this thing, I'll become someone my family would be ashamed of. I'm worried I'll turn into a monster in there. I'm doing this to help them, but…what if they can't stand the sight of me afterwards?" I ask, my defenses completely down. I've never been this vulnerable with anyone. Back home, everyone's life was hard enough without me burdening them with my worries.

"Marvel, they're your family. They love you. If you win, I'm sure all they'll care about is that you're okay," she says with a smile.

I put my arm around her and hug her back. I can't explain it, but I feel right here. I feel at peace.

Then an awful realization hits me: for me to win and see my family again, all the other tributes will have to die…including Katniss. She seems to be thinking something similar because we separate. We have so much in common and only want to see our families again, but only one of us can. I find myself hating the Hunger Games more and more.

"So…what should we do about tomorrow?" Katniss asks, steering away from the intimate conversation that suddenly feels like it was years ago thanks to the games' intrusion.

"Well, as far as the careers know, I'm still with them, so I'm going to have to participate in the bloodbath," I say, a bit unsettled by the idea that by this time tomorrow I'll either be dead or a murderer myself.

"What about me?" she asks.

"I wouldn't hang around too long if I were you. You're number two on the career hit-list right now," I say.

She nods in understanding. I suddenly feel a bit sick. If Katniss gets caught at the cornucopia, there's nothing I can do but watch the other careers kill her, my only real ally and the closest thing I have to a friend here.

"Do you think you could get me a bow?" she asks.

"That'd be tough since I can't hide it on my person," I say, "I could probably get you a small sword or something."

Katniss laughs, something I find myself really enjoying. "I've never even touched a sword," she says.

"Well, maybe you should've made better use of your training time. Don't worry, though. I'm sure you can use your knot-tying skills to defend yourself if someone attacks you," I say with smirk, prompting her to shove me.

It goes on like that for a while. We talk about our homes and our families. Katniss mostly talks about her sister, Prim, and I understand why she volunteered. Prim sounds like one of those sweet kids that wouldn't stand a chance in the games. I'd like to think she and Striker could be friends. I tell Katniss a bit about him and his affliction and how he's one of the major reasons I volunteered.

Eventually, we part, both of us wishing the other luck tomorrow, fully aware that we won't be able to speak again until after the bloodbath…assuming we both survive.

* * *

"C'mon kid, rise and shine. The arena waits for no one," says Gloss as he shakes me awake.

I yank the blankets off and sit up with a yawn. Gloss looks down at me expectantly. I didn't sleep exceptionally well last night thanks to Cato and Glimmer's...activities.

"Hurry up and get dressed," he says before taking his leave.

I notice my arena clothes on the dresser: cargo pants, a plain beige t-shirt and a matching jacket. I can't help but roll my eyes. Only the Capitol would care if our arena clothes matched.

I brush my teeth, possibly for the last time, and get dressed, also pulling on the sturdy boots left by the door that fit perfectly. I look at myself in the mirror, trying to memorize the person I see in front of me. Once I step in that arena, that boy will cease to exist.

* * *

I can't stop drumming my fingers on the bench of my launch room. I don't know what's taking so long. It could just be some last minute modifications, but I wouldn't put it past the gamemakers to make us wait just to freak us out a little more. I check the spot on my arm where they shot my tracker in and notice it's still a little bit red and tender, almost like a burn.

Nobody has come to see me and I'm glad for it. There's only so much of my mentor, stylist and escort I can take. If I can't see the only people I'd actually like to, then I'd rather be alone. My family is hundreds of miles away and Katniss is in her launch room. It feels stupid to have actually made a friend going into something like this, but…fuck it. The odds of us being the final two, with all the deadly tributes this year, are virtually zero and it's nice to have a friendly face around.

I hope one of us wins, though. If it can't be me, I hope it's her, even if Glimmer's win would mean a little more food for my district. Katniss deserves it and her family needs her. Hell, her district needs her. From what she said last night, it sounds like starvation is a bit of a problem there, unlike District One.

The announcement comes over the intercom telling all tributes to prepare for launch. I take one deep breath and look at my bracelet, a constant reminder of those counting on me. I head over to my pedestal and am quickly enclosed in a glass tube. The platform begins to rise beneath me and I know my time has come.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry it's a bit shorter than usual but I wanted the next chapter to begin in the arena. I'm glad to get this out before the Fourth of July and I hope my American readers have a great Independence Day. Everyone else, I hope you have a great Tuesday! As always, all reviews, favorites and follows are greatly appreciated.**


	9. First Blood

The first thing I notice as I rise is the blinding sunlight. It's bright, brighter than any sunlight back home and obviously unnatural. It could just be coincidence, but this is the Hunger Games and the gamemakers will make us suffer in every possible way.

My eyes gradually adjust and I see the tributes around me, spread in a semi-circle around the cornucopia, which looks like some gleaming golden mirage in the haze of the afternoon. Beautiful, life-sustaining goodies are spread on the ground in front of us, increasing in value the closer you get to the horn. I look to my left and right, fortunately finding myself between the small boy from Eight and the ginger girl from Five. Across the semi-circle, I can see Cato and Clove. Lewis is just a few tributes down from me, while Brooke and Glimmer are near the middle.

60\. 59. 58…

The countdown starts. Sixty seconds. In sixty seconds, who knows how many of these living, breathing kids will be dead and already on the train home to their distraught families. All I know is I can't be one of them.

50\. 49. 48…

The careers all exchange nods. We know what to do. I smirk as I notice Thresh is only one tribute away from Glimmer. Maybe I'll get lucky and he'll do some of my work for me.

40\. 39. 38…

I survey my surroundings more, noticing the thick woods surrounding most of the area, minus the lake behind us and whatever lies behind the rise on the other side of the horn. To my right, beyond the woods, I notice what looks like a small mountain rising above the canopy, probably at least half a day's hike away. I notice many of the smaller tributes already eyeing the woods, ready to make a break for the relative security the cover of the trees will afford them.

30\. 29. 28…

The bigger tributes look ready to go. I can tell by the look in Thresh's dark eyes that he's not missing this fight. I notice Cato grinning savagely at the boy from six, who tries to focus on the cornucopia and avoid shaking.

20\. 19. 18…

I spot Peeta, who surprisingly looks poised to run and is shaking his head at someone. My eyes widen when I see that he's shaking his head at Katniss, who looks ready to launch herself towards the cornucopia like a missile. Goddamn it, what is she doing? If she runs in there, it's going to ruin everything. My pals will all be after her and there won't be a thing I can do if I want to maintain my cover.

10\. 9. 8…

With no time left, Katniss meets my eye and I give the biggest glare I possess. To the others, it looks normal. To her, it says _Don't even think about it._

7\. 6. 5…

I face forward, my eyes locking onto a rack of deadly looking spears behind some crates. I can't afford any more distractions. All I can do is hope Katniss knows what she's doing.

4\. 3. 2…

I hope my family isn't watching. I don't want them to see what I'm about to do.

1.

I guess the gong rings, but I don't hear it. I hear nothing but the wind going by as I launch myself off the pedestal and sprint towards the cornucopia. Thanks to my long legs, I'm one of the first to reach the bounty of the golden horn. Cato is right beside me and quickly yanks a sword out of the pile and drives it into the chest of the boy from Six.

Blood spurts out as the poor kid crumples to the ground. I shake it off and grab the first spear I see. Reinforcements are pouring in and my fellow careers quickly arm themselves and spread out. The boy from Seven rushes toward me and I drive my spear into his chest without a second thought.

I spot Clove hurling a knife into the boy from Nine's back, but I freeze when I see Katniss beside the dead body, clutching a backpack. Oh shit. Clove doesn't miss and she's acquired her next target.

Her grey eyes widen and she breaks into a sprint. I see Clove windup, a wickedly sharp blade perched between her nimble fingers, and let go.

No.

I manage not to exhale in relief when I see Katniss block the knife with the backpack and disappear into the woods. Clove looks pissed, but quickly goes back to the slaughter, reminding me of where I am. There's still some dirty work to do.

I notice Thresh slit some poor kid's throat before disappearing over that rise behind the horn. A lot of tributes are dead or have taken off by now, but I spot the girl from Nine desperately running toward the woods, clutching a loaf of bread and a backpack. My body knows the movements without me. I give a bit of lead and hurl my spear, which finds its mark in the girl's chest.

By now, the battle is about over and unfortunately all my allies made it. Cato and Clove look feral, panting and covered in blood I'm pretty sure isn't theirs. Glimmer is busy pouting about her stained clothing while Brooke and Lewis just hang off to the side looking shaken.

I understand why. All around us, it looks like a butcher shop. Bloodied weapons and brutalized corpses are strewn around the once-green field.

Cato wipes his face off and quickly takes charge. "All right. Start sorting the supplies and stay away from the bodies. I want them to get picked up before they start stinkin' up the place," he says coldly.

The others follow the orders without question. I end up digging through crates of food, sorting the dried fruit from the packages of beef strips, trying to keep my mind off the girl from Nine and the boy from Seven, who are now lying cold out on the grass. I wonder what my family thinks of me now? I'm a killer and there's no going back. I can never be the boy they hugged in the District One Justice Building again.

"Hold on," says Cato, prompting everyone to look up from their sorting, "Someone's coming."

I see it. Just emerging from the tree-line, I see the idiot, waling calmly towards us. It looks like a boy, but at this distance I can't be sure. Whoever they are, they're profoundly stupid.

We all arm ourselves without another word and jog towards our visitor, who surprisingly doesn't run. As I get closer, I see that it's Peeta.

What the hell?

"You lost, Loverboy?" chuckles Cato as our posse descends on the boy from Twelve, quickly circling him like a pack of wolves.

I guess Peeta didn't run into the woods immediately. He's got a backpack, a few bruises on his face and appears to be limping a bit. Evidently, he also sustained a serious head injury. It's the only way to explain why he'd do something as crazy as come back here.

"No, I-I was actually hoping I could join your alliance," says Peeta, glancing nervously over his shoulder at Clove, who's blocking his escape route. Me, Glimmer and District Four are holding down the sides while Cato faces him, looking cocky as ever.

I can hear District Two and Glimmer laugh at that. This kid is obviously insane. I know he got an eight in training, but come on. District Twelve has been on the career shit-list since the parade and that sponsor-stealing stunt he pulled last night certainly hasn't won him any favor with our more vicious members. Anybody in Peeta's position with half a brain would know to stay away from us.

"Sorry buddy, but I don't think that's gonna work," says Cato, drawing his sword and advancing towards Peeta with a wicked grin.

"Wait! Wait! I can help you!" pleads Peeta, blue eyes wide in desperation.

Cato snorts, but pauses. "And how's that?" he asks mockingly. I can hear Clove and Glimmer laughing as well. Brooke and Lewis look uncomfortable, probably not eager to see Cato gut this idiot. As annoying as he is, I don't either. Even idiots have families.

"You want to find Katniss right? I can help you," he says.

Suddenly the idea of Peeta being dead is a lot more appealing.

There's silence for a moment, everyone but me apparently considering the idea. All I can think about is how to stick this asshole with a spear.

"How are you gonna do that exactly?" Cato asks, trying to sound uninterested.

"We grew up together in Twelve. I know her skills and what she'd do in a situation like this," answers Peeta, still sounding nervous.

"You willing to betray your little girlfriend like that? How do we know this isn't some plot by the star-crossed lovers to take us down?" Cato asks, getting a bit too close to my plan for comfort.

Peeta laughs, which really surprises me. "Don't tell me you actually believed that crap! It was just a ploy to get sponsors," he says.

Wow. If I didn't hate this guy before, I sure as shit do now. That is low, even for the Hunger Games. I may despise Glimmer, but I'm not going to kill her unless it's absolutely necessary and I certainly wouldn't pretend to be in love with her just to do it. I could never show my face in District One again if I did. No matter how bad your district partner is, you have to show them some semblance of loyalty. Apparently that doesn't matter to Peeta though, just another spineless weasel desperate to stay alive.

"He's full of shit. I say we kill him now," I say, tightening my grip on my spear.

Peeta's blue eyes flicker to me and I can see fear and maybe even some anger there, almost like he suspects something.

"I second that," says Glimmer, notching an arrow in her silver bow, finally at a distance she might be able to hit her target from.

"No," says Cato, "He's in."

There it is. Two words and Peeta, architect of the star-crossed lovers charade and proven snake, is a member of our merry band. Glimmer frowns. Clove nods in assent. Brooke and Lewis look passive and Cato looks satisfied as usual…and it pisses me off.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" I snap. I know I'm taking a risk defying Cato, but I'm too angry to care at this point. "We can't trust this weasel! If he'd turn on his own district partner, he'd turn on us in a heartbeat!"

"Hey! I'm just trying to stay alive here!" spits Peeta.

"Well, you're doing a pretty shitty job!" I say, raising my spear without thinking and sending Peeta scurrying backwards.

A thunderous blow to the side of my face is the only thing that stops me from driving my spear into Peeta's chest. I stumble to the ground as stars dance around my vision and I try to figure out which of the three shaky Cato's I'm seeing to focus on.

I get up on wobbly feet and meet Cato's cold gaze as best I can. Judging by his clenched fist, it's no secret who punched me…that or the pain on the side of my face is from a stroke.

"He's in," Cato says, his voice harder than stone, "Can you accept that or am I going to have to do something drastic?"

I have a fleeting desire to spit in his arrogant face and curse him before killing Peeta right in front of him…but ultimately sense prevails. I've gotta stick to the plan and find Katniss, especially after this unprecedented revelation. From there, we can work out how to dispose of the other careers and Peeta. Especially Peeta.

"Fine," I say, before taking my spear and stumbling off back towards the cornucopia. I look back and level Peeta with my fiercest glare.

At least the star-crossed lovers thing was bullshit.

* * *

We spend the rest of the day lounging around, Cato having made the unilateral decision that we'd hunt at night instead of during the day. It makes absolutely no sense because the tributes will be better concealed by then, but as always people are afraid to challenge Cato's decisions for fear of being punched in the face.

Glimmer hangs around in the shade of the cornucopia brushing her hair, while Cato and Clove go practice their knife-throwing at the edge of the clearing. I end up sprawling out on the soft green grass near the lake, listening to the sounds of Brooke and Lewis messing around in the water. I take my jacket and boots off, feeling the warm rays of the fake sun on my skin and the cool breeze that rushes through the gaps in the pine trees and into the clearing.

I guess the gamemakers are rewarding us for an entertaining bloodbath. Ten ominous cannon shots rang out not too long ago and the hovercraft finally came by to take the bodies away, including my two victims. I try not to think about them or what I'm putting their families through. I'm sure the boy from Seven and the girl from Nine had parents and siblings that desperately wanted to see them again too…thanks to me, that'll never happen. It feels worse that I don't even know their names. I stole their entire lives from them and yet I can't even put a name to the anguished faces I can't get out of my head. I make a mental note to learn their names once I'm out of here. I owe them that much.

I try to relax and think happy thoughts, something that would be easier if Peeta wasn't in my line of sight. I can see the bastard kneeling by the lake by himself, scrubbing some blood off his shirt and trying to look inconspicuous. If there was someone I'd be completely okay with killing, it's Peeta. Hell, I might even in enjoy it and I don't think that's a reflection on my lost humanity. I think it's a reflection on how much Peeta has it coming for betraying his district partner and my secret ally.

That thought brings me back to Katniss. I wonder how she's doing. She looked like she got away uninjured and with some supplies, but I highly doubt she's armed. To make matters worse, the only bow in the arena is in the hands of the one person I can't kill with impunity, my district partner. I guess I'll have to get it away from her somehow. For Katniss to help me take down the careers, she'll need that bow, but if I don't want to end up a corpse, I'll have to be discreet getting it to her.

Lewis and Brooke continue to play around in front of me, swimming around in the cool, dark waters of the lake.

"Marvel! You wanna come in?" calls Lewis, neck deep in the lake.

"I'm quite content up here!" I call back, "Aren't you two worried about swimming around in there?"

"Why would we be? The water's great!" yells Lewis like an excited child.

"It's not the water I'm worried about! Don't forget this is the Hunger Games! You never know what might be swimming around in there!" I yell back, laughing but also kinda serious. You wouldn't catch me in that water.

"You don't think…" Lewis mutters, suddenly nervous and looking around him for a mutt or perhaps something worse.

"Think what? That'd they fill the water with tribute-hungry mutts? Yeah, I do. It makes for some pretty interesting television," I tease.

Turns out Brooke has impeccable timing. She picks that very moment to swim under Lewis and grab his leg. His scream is so loud that even Glimmer looks over, briefly distracted from her primping. Lewis scampers out of the water, only to look back and see Brooke and I laughing.

"That wasn't funny! You scared the shit outta me!" he fumes.

Brooke just keeps laughing. "I'm sorry, but Marvel set me up for it perfectly," she says.

"Hey, don't put your devious nature on me, Four," I say, laughing myself at the expression on Lewis' face, "What do they teach you in that backwards district of yours anyway?"

"Oh the usual stuff: swimming, fishing…scaring the shit outta your district partner," Brooke answers.

"It's not funny and don't give the gamemakers any ideas about mutts!" Lewis says hotly.

I hadn't thought of that. I suppose it's not a big deal, though. I'm sure the gamemakers were planning on using mutts long before Lewis opened his mouth.

"Yeah, that'd just be a shame. I hear mutts have a taste for the younger tributes," teases Brooke, that mischievous sparkle back in her green eyes.

"Must like fresh meat," I quip, smirking at Lewis, who finally decides he's had enough of our abuse and storms off.

Brooke climbs out of the lake and sits beside me, trying to wring the water out of her wet hair.

"He seems a bit sensitive," I say, watching Lewis' shirtless form heading back towards the golden horn.

Brooke chuckles. "He's always been that way," she says.

"You seem fond of him," I comment, remembering how Brooke stood up to Cato on Lewis' behalf, how she's always watching out for him.

"I should be. His older sister was one of my best friends. We spent quite a bit of time together growing up," she says mildly, an odd mix of sadness and nostalgia permeating her voice.

"I'm sorry," I say, realizing I've stepped into something personal.

Brooke just shrugs. "It's alright. It's not your fault we were reaped," she says.

"I know, but…that just sucks, having to compete against someone you care about," I say, feeling a bit sad for a reason I can't quite put my finger on.

"You and Glimmer close?" Brooke asks.

"No, not really. I mean we know each other, but…" I trail off, trying to find the right words.

Brooke grins. "You can't stand her can you?" she says with a chuckle.

"Is it that obvious?" I ask.

Brooke just nods. "I'm afraid it is. I first noticed it when you were messing with her on the rooftop," she says.

"You mess with Lewis," I counter.

"Yeah, but not like that. You weren't saying those things to tease her. You just genuinely did not like her and wanted to get under her skin," Brooke says, "I also noticed it in the way you fight."

"What?" I ask. The way I fight? What does a spear have to do with my dislike of Glimmer?

"The way you fight. I noticed how you were fighting at the cornucopia," she says.

I chuckle a bit, but can't completely mask my unease. Is Brooke onto me?

"I wasn't aware you could tell that much about a person by how they throw a spear," I say, trying to sound casual.

Brooke just rolls her eyes. "It wasn't your weapon that tipped me off, jackass. It was how you fought without even sparing Glimmer a glance. I fought alongside Lewis and, as I'm sure you've noticed, Cato and Clove stuck together…but you didn't do that. You really don't care if she lives or dies," she says, looking satisfied to having figured it all out.

She's right of course, but I can't help but feel annoyed.

"So what? Only one of us is going to live through this anyway. Surviving this thing yourself is hard enough without worrying about someone else," I snap.

I know I'm being a bit hypocritical due to my secret dealings with Katniss, but that's different. She can take care of herself out there and doesn't need my help. We have a mutually beneficial partnership but we certainly don't require the other's protection.

Glimmer's not even my friend so why should I give a shit if she lives or dies? It's not like we're talking about Katniss here, the only person whose death might affect me…well, minus the people I've killed personally.

"You're right, but you're also wrong," Brooke says, her intelligent eyes unmoving.

"What the hell does that mean?" I ask, frustrated by the way this conversation is going.

"You're right if you're working with the wrong person. I understand why you don't like her. People like Glimmer will only drag you down and when push comes to shove, you won't be able to count on them," Brooke says.

"Thanks Brooke. I hadn't put that together myself, so thank you. Thank you for enlightening me," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Surprisingly, Brooke takes it in stride. "But you're wrong about working with the right person. The right ally doesn't make you weaker. They make you stronger. They give you someone you can depend on to watch your back. Lewis makes surviving the games easier for me," she says with unmistakable sincerity.

"Whoop-dee-doo for you," I say, "Must be nice to have a district partner you can depend on."

Brooke follows my eyes and sees that I'm watching Peeta, who's still washing his damn shirt.

Brooke's face twists into that same devious grin as before. "I guess you and girl on fire have something in common. A shitty district partner," she says.

"At least Glimmer isn't trying to get me killed," I snort.

"Yet," she quips.

That comment makes me uncomfortable. I may be respecting the 'district partner code' but that doesn't mean Glimmer is. Maybe I'm being an idiot and she's planning my death right now. If Peeta proves anything it's that not everyone believes in that stuff.

"Do you trust him?" I ask.

"Hell no. Everyone except District Two agreed with you, even if they were too scared to say it. Anyone who'd betray their district partner like that, especially with that bullshit declaration of love, will turn on you the second it's advantageous for them," Brooke says harshly.

I can't help but smile at the statement. "I'm glad you see reason. Even if our benevolent leader doesn't," I say.

"He's a prick and his stupid decisions are probably gonna get us all killed," says Brooke bitterly, her gaze drifting off towards the knife riddled trees where Cato and Clove are practicing.

She's right, but that doesn't really get us anywhere. I know Cato's dangerous. I know Glimmer's unreliable. And I know Peeta's a treacherous snake.

"So what the hell are we supposed to do about it?" I ask, watching as the sun dips toward the trees, creating silhouettes against the orange sky.

Brooke shrugs. "Nothing we can do but keep our eyes open and try to get out of the way when this all blows up in Cato's face," she says, before getting up and heading back towards the cornucopia.

I knew I was right to like District Four. Brooke and Lewis aren't like the others. They're relatively normal kids that are just trying to get back to their families, like me. Too bad our goals aren't compatible. I hope I don't have to kill them.

* * *

The fake sun finally sets about an hour later and the fake moon and a billion fake, shimmering stars take its place. Cato lets out a loud whoop and announces it's time to hunt. We all hustle to grab our gear at the cornucopia. I grab a pack and fill it with packages of dried fruit, extra spearheads, a flashlight and a bottle of water. I also find an interesting looking knife among the survival supplies. Its handle has a detachable butt with a piece of flint, handy for starting fires. After my experiences trying to start fire with sticks, I decide to bring it along, sliding it into my boot.

We're all about to hustle off into the woods when Cato stops us.

"What?" Brooke asks, obviously annoyed and clutching her trident tightly.

"Haven't you forgotten something? Someone has to stand guard," Cato says smugly.

Everyone groans, nobody keen on missing out on the action to guard all our crap. I would volunteer, but I still need to find Katniss…and keep an eye on Peeta to make sure he doesn't fuck up everything.

"And exactly how are we going to decide who stays behind?" Brooke asks.

"Well, without any courageous volunteers, I suppose the fairest way would be to base it on who had the most kills," says Clove, "I'll start. I had two kills. Cato?"

"Four kills," he answers, sounding incredibly pleased with himself.

"Marvel?" Clove asks.

"Two kills," I say flatly, my guilt resurfacing.

"Brooke?" Clove turns.

"One kill," she answers with a sigh.

"And Thresh killed the other one, so…," Clove turns towards Lewis, Glimmer and Peeta, "That just leaves you three with a whopping zero kills."

"I can't be Loverboy, so it's gotta be one of y'all," Cato says, motioning towards Lewis and Glimmer.

"Why can't it be him? He's perfect for it," Glimmer snaps, motioning to Peeta.

"No, he's not. We need him to find the bitch on fire and I don't trust him here alone anyway. It's gotta be one of you," says Cato.

Glimmer and Lewis start arguing, but I tune it out to look at Peeta, whose wide blue eyes constantly flicker around the group, like he's expecting to be attacked at any moment. He notices me glaring at him and looks surprised before returning the favor.

Ultimately, the debate is settled by having the pair draw straws, which relegates Lewis to guard duty. Glimmer enthusiastically grabs her bow and trots after Cato like a duckling following its mother. Peeta jogs off as well, making sure to stay far enough away from Cato. Brooke gives Lewis a hug before bringing up the rear with me and Clove.

"You better quit that shit. We don't need two pairs of lovers in this games," Clove says coldly as we first enter the forest.

"We're not lovers. Lewis is like a little brother to me," Brooke counters, her green eyes narrowing at Clove.

"Whatever it is, keep it out of my sight," retorts the girl from Two before she picks up the pace to join her district partner.

"Bitch," mutters Brooke as we continue on our trek.

The forest is…a lot more intimidating than I thought. The dark trees rise up above us, almost blotting out the sky. The ground, which was so open and uncomplicated during the day, is now a precarious floor with constant obstacles like wayward tree roots to trip over hidden by shadows. Cato's flashlight is the only thing guiding us. He said he doesn't want the rest of us turning them on so that we don't give our presence away to tributes. If I wanted another punch in the face, I'd point out that maybe he should stop barking orders constantly and stomping around like an elephant if stealth is what he's going for, but what do I know? Cato and Clove are the geniuses here and we are all just lowly peasants who have been given the honor of serving them.

* * *

We've been combing the woods for at least a few hours and haven't found a thing. Shockingly, no tributes have come out of their hiding spots and asked us to kill them, leaving us with nothing to do but stumble around in the darkness. District Two is pissed and everyone else is starting to wear out.

"Can we take a break?" Glimmer whines, too tired to continue flirting with Cato.

"No we cannot take a fucking break! There's still seven other tributes out there and we haven't found shit!" snaps Cato from the front of the group. Wow, Cato isn't even nice to the people he's banging.

"Don't worry. I'm sure yelling and lots of noise will draw them out," says Brooke dryly.

I can't help but smirk at that statement and at the way Cato's beady eyes somehow get narrower.

"You can shut up, Four. Maybe if everyone was focused, we'd have found someone by now," hisses Cato.

"Should we try checking the mountain?" suggests Peeta, trying to be helpful.

"There's no one there," I say dismissively. The mountain is on the other side of the arena and doesn't have much cover, making it a pretty unlikely spot for Katniss to head, which is all I'm really interested in.

"How can you be so sure?" says Peeta, his voice sharper than I expected.

"Because there's not enough cover for anyone to hide up there. Only someone really goddamn stupid would try," I retort, unable to keep my dislike of Peeta out of my voice.

"You just think you know everything don't you?" Peeta scoffs.

"No, I just have more valuable skills than betraying my district partner like a little bitch," I snarl, giving a little more away than I should've.

Peeta's eyes widen and he look furious. "Why do you care so much?!" he snaps, taking a threatening step towards me.

I step closer too, my glare unwavering and my height advantage obvious. Peeta may be heavier than me, but he isn't a trained fighter and I can see that tiny, almost imperceptible flicker of fear in his eyes. I only see it because I was trained to see it, to sense my opponent's weaknesses.

"I don't care about that," I lie, "What I do care about is working with someone I know is an untrustworthy snake."

"Would you two please shut the fuck up! We need to figure out what to do here," yells Cato, instantly silencing us although not stopping me from glaring at Peeta, who looks more suspicious than ever. I need to keep my eye on this asshole.

"And what do you propose, genius? More walking aimlessly through the woods and hoping we stumble across something?" Brooke sneers.

"Watch your mouth you little bitch!" Cato booms.

"Yeah, watch it," adds Glimmer, hanging onto Cato like a pathetic crony, "You need to learn respect."

I can't help but roll my eyes at that, "And you need to learn to mind your own business," I interject.

"That goes for you too," Cato barks, his beady blue eyes snapping to me, "I'm in charge here and you are going to respect my authority."

My eyes narrow and I can feel my fists curling around my spear. In the back of my mind, I know the smart thing to do is to shut up and let Cato think he's in charge while I work out a way to take him down. I know that…but anger ultimately prevails.

"Kiss my ass," I spit out. I don't regret the words, not one bit, but Cato does look ready to punch me in the face again.

"Look here motherfu-

"Hey!" screeches Clove, cutting off Cato's impending tirade. I'd actually forgotten she was there in all the arguing.

"What?" asks Cato, chest heaving and cold eyes still fixed on me.

Clove points off into the forest, where, for the first time, I notice a small orange glow in the distance; a glow that means one thing: a tribute.

"If you idiots are done arguing, do you want to do what we came here to do?" Clove asks, drawing a throwing knife from her jacket.

Without a word or another thought to the argument we were just engaged in, the pack rolls out, gliding through the dark forest like silent angels of death towards our unfortunate target. My feet suddenly know the movements and I no longer trip, moving smoothly, silently behind Cato and Clove with the others.

We approach the clearing and hang back, just out of the orange firelight. I squint and make out the girl from District Eight. I'm relieved and saddened at the same time. It's not Katniss, but the girl from Eight is just a kid, probably not even fourteen. I feel a twinge of pity as I watch her try to warm her small hands over the fire, knowing she doesn't stand a chance. Cato motions for us to surround the girl and hang back, concealed in the shadows.

We all exchange nods and I try not to think about what I'm doing while Cato gives the signal.

"Now!" he bellows.

Before the poor girl can even stand up, we storm into her campsite, Clove and Glimmer pouncing on her and holding her down.

"No! No! Please! P-Please don't kill me! Take anything you want! Please!" screams the girl, her voice shrill and terrified, sounding so much like a child's that I begin to feel sick.

Cato's face breaks into an evil grin, the shadows from the firelight making him look even more menacing. He kicks through the girl's meager supplies and laughs a pitiless laugh that Glimmer and Clove echo. Despite the fire, I suddenly feel very, very cold.

"We're not here for supplies," Cato mocks, drawing his razor sharp sword from its sheath. The small girl's eyes go wide and her face pales, futilely trying to squirm out of Glimmer and Clove's iron grip as Cato approaches.

"Please don't! Please don't hurt me," the girl pleads, beginning to sob and pulling her knees into her chest.

My grip on my spear tightens. I could end this. I could kill Cato and maybe even Clove, but I can't take them all. Even Brooke might try to kill me and I know Peeta would. Maybe the girl from Eight could get away in the chaos…or maybe not. There's no way to be sure.

I'd like to say there's nothing I can do, but that's a lie. I could do something, but instead I'm choosing my life over a child's…and I hate myself for it.

The girl screams terribly when Cato drives his sword into her belly. Crimson blood spurts out while Cato, Clove and Glimmer cackle. Brooke looks disgusted, not at the body but at her comrades, and Peeta, to his credit, looks sick; probably like I do.

"Eleven down, twelve to go!" bellows Cato, drawing cheers and more insidious laughter from Clove and Glimmer, who seem to forget that the 'twelve' Cato's referring to will include them if he has his way.

We leave the poor girl curled around her wound, bleeding and whimpering beside her meager campfire, which cost her life. I trudge after the happy trio, alongside Brooke and just ahead of Peeta. I feel a mixture of rage and shame as I listen to them mock the poor girl's pleas, the pleas of a murdered child, one I chose not to help.

We don't get too far before Glimmer, of all people, thinks of something. "Shouldn't we have heard a cannon by now?" she asks.

"I'd say yes. Nothing to prevent them from going in immediately," says Clove, coming to a stop.

"Unless she isn't dead," Brooke says flatly, trying to mask her disgust with composure.

"She's dead. I stuck her myself," Cato insists.

"Then where's the cannon?" Brooke fires back, angry at Cato's callous behavior like I am.

"Someone should go back. Make sure the job's done," Peeta says.

As much as I hate to admit it, he's right. If it was me lying out there, I'd want someone to put me out of my misery.

"Yeah, we don't want to have to track her down twice," says Clove, crossing her arms and fixing her dark gaze on Cato.

Cato loses his temper at Clove's dissension. "I said she's dead!" he yells.

They begin squabbling until I have a moment of clarity.

"I'll do it," I say firmly.

"What?" Cato asks.

"I said I'll do it. I'll go back and check. If she's still alive, I'll handle it," I say.

The others are silent for a moment, obviously a bit surprised I volunteered.

"Go on, One," says Cato with his trademark arrogance, "See for yourself."

I hustle back the way we came, spear in hand. The fire hasn't completely gone out, the ruddy orange glow still visible through the trees. I walk into the clearing and spot the girl from Eight, right where we left her, curled into a ball around Cato's cruel stab wound and whimpering in obvious pain.

I lean my spear up against one of the trees and try to swallow my shame. I may not have done this, but I certainly didn't try to stop it. It's then that I realize just what the games do to you. If you want to survive, like I do, you have to sell every piece of yourself, no matter how cherished. I've already killed and stood by and allowed others to murder children. How far will it go from here?

No. I'm not completely gone. Not yet.

I kneel down beside the poor girl. Her tear-stained face and the pool of blood around her is enough to bring my guilt back with a vengeance. Her tiny hands are pressed into her stab wound, futilely trying to stem the crimson flow.

"It's okay," I say softly, my voice breaking, "You're gonna be okay."

All I can think of is my little brother. This is probably someone's little sister.

The girl looks up at me, confused and afraid. I understand. I'm a career, a bloodthirsty savage who stood by and watched this…but I'm trying. I'm trying really hard not to be.

She rolls onto her back, her young face contorted in a look of constant pain and her fearful, teary eyes meeting mine.

"What's your name?" I ask quietly.

"A-Ava," she sputters, in pain from something as simple as speaking.

"I'm Marvel. I'm so sorry," I say sadly, not knowing what else to say.

"I want to go home," Ava manages before more tears overtake her.

My composure wavers and I have to fight back the tears that threaten to spill from my eyes. No matter how badly I feel, I can't walk back to the others with red eyes and tear stains on my face. This is the Hunger Games and I have to stay strong.

"I'll get you home," I say, my voice quivering as I pull the knife from my boot. Ava sees it and her breathing quickens despite her injury.

"It's okay," I say, still kneeling beside her.

"I'm afraid," she says weakly, breathing heavily and wincing in pain.

I take her small, bloodstained hand in mine, offering the best comfort I can to this poor kid who just wants to go home like we all do.

"It's okay. I'll make it quick. I promise," I say. Ava nods ever so slightly and tightens her grip on my hand.

"Close your eyes," I say, fighting hard to keep from breaking down completely. Ava complies and I steel myself. I have to do it. Nobody should be left like this and I doubt Cato would show any empathy if he returned and found her alive.

I raise the knife above her heart and take a deep breath before driving it down with all the force I can muster. Ava lets out a gasp, but immediately goes limp, a cannon shot thundering throughout the arena. I cross her hands over her chest and wearily stand up. That's three kills. Three lives I have personally extinguished. I feel completely drained, physically, emotionally and mentally. I have to keep moving, though. My family is counting on me. I hope they're not ashamed. I hope they see I've still got some decency left.

I grab my spear and trudge back towards my allies. Then I hear something. A faint rustle, like a squirrel scurrying around, comes from a large willow to my right. I look up into the dark branches and search for the source, but find nothing. Just the thick shadows swallowing every branch and leaf beyond the glow of the dying fire.

* * *

 **A/N: Whew! That was a long chapter. I considered splitting it, but I wanted to cover the entire first day at once. Marvel's got blood on his hands now, made new friends and new enemies. I got a lot of great reviews and feedback on the last chapter and I just want to say thank you. You guys are the best. As always, all reviews, follows and favorites are greatly appreciated.**


	10. Walkabout

Soon after we got back, the anthem played. I slumped against the metal wall of the cornucopia alone, watching for the faces in the sky. First is the girl from Three, followed by the boy from Five. Both of the tributes from Six, Seven, Eight and Nine went down as well. I swallow a lump in my throat at the faces of my three victims. The girl from Ten appears last and the sky is dark again.

Alright, who's left? Six careers and Peeta. That's seven. Katniss and Thresh, the two biggest threats left in the games, make it nine. Surprisingly, little Rue is still out there, bringing the total to ten. The sly ginger girl from Five must still be out there, along with the nervous boy from Three and the crippled boy from Ten. Thirteen tributes left, almost half the gone on the first day. I suppose I should feel some joy at my odds improving, after all every death gets me closer to home, but I don't. All I see is Ava and the boy from Seven and the girl from Nine. I think back to the academy and how they spoke of the glory of the kill, the ultimate triumph over your enemy and the validation of your skill as a warrior. It's nothing like that. There's no pride or glory in this. In all their preaching, my trainers left out the part where you kill unprepared kids who never could've fought you in the first place. What the hell did they know anyway? None of them were victors. They'd never been in the arena and faced the awful reality of taking a life. They never knew what it was like to be a tribute. Turns out all they knew was how to destroy dummies and talk about things they didn't understand.

I was a damn fool for ever listening to them.

I can hear the others rustling around near the mouth of the cornucopia, eating and laughing about the day's events like a pack of hyenas. Our nighttime hunt wasn't very successful, Ava being our only kill. Still, it wasn't a total loss for me. I have a general idea of where some of the tributes went. Maybe I can slip out early tomorrow morning and try to find Katniss. I'll need an excuse. Exploring maybe or perhaps hunting. Something to get away from the others.

I return to the mouth later to see the others already sprawled out among the supplies, ready for bed. Cato already looks asleep, with Glimmer snuggling up to him. Lewis and Peeta sleep alone next to some crates while Clove dozes against the cold metal wall, clutching a knife, ready for battle even in her sleep. Only Brooke is still up, watching the darkness with her trident in hand.

"You're back," she comments as I walk by.

"I never left. I just wanted to be alone for a little while," I say. Brooke nods in understanding. From what I can tell, she's not too proud about her actions either. At least she isn't in second place on the kill count right now.

"How'd you get stuck on guard duty?" I ask as I roll my sleeping bag out as far away from Clove and Cato as possible.

"Kill count," Brooke answers, "Lewis already guarded today, Peeta can't be trusted and, minus the princess over there, I had the fewest kills."

I smirk, the annoyance obvious in Brooke's voice. "Oh of course. Can't expect her to miss her beauty sleep, even in the Hunger Games," I say, shaking my head.

"Get some rest. I'll be waking Clove's ass up in few hours for guard duty," says Brooke.

I crawl into my soft, warm sleeping bag and exhale, my breath visible in the frosty air. "Can't say I envy you," I say, glancing at the tiny package of ferocity that is Clove. Not only does she hold a knife in her sleep, she even scowls in her sleep, her dark eyebrows knitted together and her mouth drawn into a tight expression.

Brooke doesn't answer and I lie down. It's only been one day and I'm already weary of death, as if I've never seen anything else in my eighteen years. It's crazy how all the good times I've had, all the years of joy I've had with Striker and my dad and my mom, all get swallowed by the bad moments. Finding out Striker was a cripple, my dad losing his hand, me participating in the Bloodbath and me killing Ava dominate everything, making everything good that happened to me seem like an unimportant footnote.

Hopefully it won't stay that way.

* * *

I wake up without an alarm, my body honed by years of early morning training. Sitting up in my sleeping bag, I can see the approach of dawn, the first rays of light spreading over the clearing. Clove is on guard, her dark eyes never leaving the field and her hand never leaving the handle of her knife. Oh course she wouldn't fall asleep. Why can't I just be lucky? Why couldn't someone lazy be on guard instead of one of the District Two Hunger Games-robots? Oh well. I'll have to make the lie good.

I get up and start rummaging through the food crates, avoiding Clove's pointed gaze and trying not to wake the others. Lewis stirs a bit as I crack open a package of dried fruit, but doesn't wake. Good. The last thing I need is more people noticing me going off on my own and wondering what I'm up to.

"You're up early. Relieving me of guard duty?" Clove asks.

"No," I say through a mouthful of the surprisingly good dried fruit, "I'm heading out."

"Why?" Clove asks, arching a dark eyebrow as I grab my pack and spear.

"I'm want to explore the area a bit, see if I can pick up any sign of the other tributes," I say, my tone all-business.

A bit of Clove's suspicion seems to abate and she grins. "Good. If you find one, you know what to do."

I nod, but have no intention of killing anyone who doesn't attack me.

"Good job last night," calls Clove. That freezes me.

"What?" I ask, spinning around to face her.

"Last night, when you finished that little dumbass that made the fire," Clove says callously, "You did a good job. I wasn't sure you had what it took to be a Career, but you've proved yourself."

I feel my anger rising. I'm tempted to go over there and show her just how much of a Career I can be, but manage to hold it in. Peeta's already suspicious. I can't take any further risks.

I don't answer Clove's comment and begin jogging across the grass, still hidden by the shadows of the immense pines trees lining the clearing. It's still fairly dark inside the forest, shadows covering a soft forest floor of dirt, shrubs and pine needles. Still, everything looks a lot friendlier in the morning light, certainly less menacing than last night.

I hike back the we came last night, following what looks like a game trail. There's no sign of the other tributes, but I keep my spear ready just in case Thresh or even the boy from Ten try to take me on. Actually, I haven't seen Thresh since he disappeared over that rise after the bloodbath. In all that excitement, I forgot to see what's over there. I wonder if Thresh is going to move around or camp out once he finds cover. Big as he is, we still have the numbers and staying out of sight is his best move right now.

I keep walking, hoping to locate the remnants of Ava's campfire. If I can find that, I might be able to pick up some signs of other tributes. Maybe even Katniss. Unfortunately, many of these trees look alike and the game trail isn't as straightforward as I thought. It veers off in numerous different directions, all the routes lined by the limitless masses of pine trees that all look the same. The sun rises in the sky, the heat intensifying as I pick a path to follow, not having the slightest idea where it goes.

* * *

Okay, I'm lost. The game trail I took completely turned me around and left me alone in this endless maze of trees. Not only that, it's getting hotter. Much, much hotter. I wipe the stinging beads of sweat off my forehead and step into the shade beneath a tree, desperate to get out of the sun for even a moment. I take a long, gratuitous drink from my water bottle. I'm so glad I left it in my pack last night. If I hadn't, I'm sure I'd be dying of thirst by now. I guess the gamemakers are hoping water will force us together. On a day like this, everyone needs it and where there's desperate tributes, there's ratings.

I've given up hope of finding Ava's campsite. Any tributes that were in the area have probably started moving by now anyway. And if Katniss was anywhere nearby, I doubt she would've stuck around with Careers on the hunt. Then, as the sun's scorching rays roast my entire body, it hits me. She's probably looking for water too. She can't go to the lake so she's probably frequenting a water source somewhere on this side of the arena. Unless she's planning to shoot off a flare, it's my best shot at finding her…assuming I can find one of the water sources.

Okay, what do I know about water? It flows downhill, usually has mud nearby and makes the ground plants greener. There's absolutely none of that around me. I'm on some rise, standing on a bed of brown, bone-dry pine needles. Shit.

I look around, hoping to spot a river or a pond or something through the gaps in the trees, but see nothing. I pick a direction and walk, my eyes peeled for any sign of water. I wonder what the viewers are thinking right now, a career tribute wandering around the forest examining the dirt and the color of the plants. I'm sure I look completely insane, but at least I'm not doing anything that would horrify my family.

If it weren't for the damn heat and the constant threat of death, this actually wouldn't be too bad a place. District One is pretty sparse when it comes to natural beauty, all of that long since paved over for our sleek, modern buildings, but I'm savoring it now. I never knew trees grew so tall. I wonder what else I don't know. There's probably incredible things in all the other districts that I have no idea about thanks to Snow and his complete suppression of information. All we know about the other districts is their general industry, like District Twelve's being coal or ours being luxury items.

I wonder how Katniss is faring in here. I wonder if she's seen a forest before? She must've. If I remember correctly from the maps of Panem that hung on the walls of my old classrooms, District Twelve is pretty remote, located all the way across the country in the northeastern part of the continent. In the footage I've seen, it didn't look exceptionally developed, certainly not like the Capitol or District One. It makes me wonder what stuff Katniss picked up there other than archery. It also makes me wonder what else I don't know about her. Everyone has their secrets after all.

I keep walking, covering more expanses of dry ground and pine needles. There aren't even many edible plants around this area, making me wonder what the tributes not lucky enough to enjoy a bounty of cornucopia food are eating. I suppose they could be hunting, but, minus Thresh, I didn't see anyone other than us snag any weapons to hunt with, including Katniss, who I am still no closer to finding than when I woke up this morning. I suppose I shouldn't have expected it to be easy. For god's sake, I'm in the Hunger Games, where everything from fighting tributes to going for a walk is difficult.

Frustrated, I flop down on the ground. The sun's directly overhead, indicating it's about noon…at least in the arena. Who knows what time it is in the real world. I wonder how Striker feels after watching me in the games yesterday. He probably saw my "highlights" in the recaps after school, including the one with Ava. I hope he didn't get a bunch of shit for it. Me showing her some mercy doesn't exactly mesh with Career-protocol. I'm sure at this point it's fairly obvious to the audience that I'm not completely with the Careers, especially after my conversations with Brooke. I can't even imagine how Gloss reacted to my small act of mercy. It wasn't exactly befitting of a District One tribute.

I take another drink from my water bottle and sigh. I know I've got to find my way back soon but I still haven't found my secret ally and without her, I've got no plan to get rid of my fellow Careers. I pick up my backpack and notice mud on the bottom. Wonderful.

Wait, mud? Mud is just dirt with…water! I jump to my feet and look around, half expecting to find a lake surrounding me. I don't see much but trees. Confused, I rub the ground again. No, that's definitely mud and the mud will lead me to the water and the water just might lead me to Katniss.

I follow it like a pathway, jabbing my boots into the ground to make sure I'm still on muddy ground, heading towards the water. It isn't long before I hear it, that unmistakable sound of torrents of water flowing over smooth stones. I break into a run, dodging the trees and jumping over roots like an obstacle course, my jacket flailing behind me and my spear loosely held in my hand.

In a moment, I see it. A slight slope down from the trees and just off a rocky bank, is a blue-green river, shimmering in the midday sun and stretching out of sight in both directions behind pine-studded bends. Without another thought, I drop my pack and my spear and run towards the water, dropping to my knees and splashing the icy water on my heated face. I feel and savor the sensation of the cool beads of water running down my sun-burned cheeks. Hopefully there's something for them back at the cornucopia.

I look in both directions, but see no sign of another tribute, a bit disappointing but not the end of the world. I suppose the best way to try and find Katniss would be to walk the river and hope she's nearby. She's got to have water, especially on a day like this.

I suppose I should head upstream, which'll probably take me back to the lake and the cornucopia. Maybe I'll get lucky and find Katniss along the way. If not, I can try to sneak off again after we go tribute hunting. One thing I know I can count on is that the gamemakers won't let Katniss and our little posse stay separate for long. A meeting between the two promises way too much entertainment for them to hold off forever. Hopefully I can find her before then.

I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't see it until it's within ten feet of me. I freeze, but my eyes drift out to the water, where some predatory yellow eyes lined by green scales are inching toward me, whatever they're attached to concealed by the water. I try not to panic, knowing that if I bolt this…creature, or mutt or whatever it is, will probably attack. I've got to stay calm and prepare to defend myself. I remember leaving my spear up by the trees and curse myself for my stupidity. What the hell was I thinking?! Dropping my weapon in the arena and leaving myself vulnerable?! This is the kind of stupidity that makes people shake their heads while they're watching the games.

The eyes get closer but I keep my gaze fixed ahead, pretending to just be watching the water. I've got to let this thing think it's got the element of surprise. Otherwise, it may rush me and I doubt I can hold it off. The eyes are now about eight feet away, watching me as my hand slithers down into my boot where my knife waits. I feel a small wave of relief wash over me as I grip its sturdy handle, almost like I've got a friend on my side.

The creature gets closer, the dark outline of its form slowly getting clearer in the water, a lanky body and a set of powerful jaws becoming obvious. I have to time this right.

The creature lunges, huge jaws rising out of the water eager to snap me in half. I roll out of the way as I yank the knife out of my boot, slashing the creature across its cream-colored side. I don't even try stabbing the armored green skin on its back, scampering up the bank with the speed only those running for their lives possess.

I look back at the creature, which makes a bizarre hissing-type sound but stays at the water's edge. It looks sort of like a giant lizard, with its scales and long tail, but what lizard has jaws and teeth like that? And lives in the water? Must be some type of Capitol-mutt.

The mutt disappears back into the river, evidently not keen on pursing me on land and already sporting a knife wound. I pick of my spear, reminding myself to never be that vulnerable again. In here, the stakes are way too high for negligence.

I get up and head upstream, keeping a healthy distance from the water's edge. Hopefully, Katniss will do the same.

* * *

I walk for about an hour, not seeing any sign of life, much less Katniss. I haven't heard a cannon all day and I can only imagine how bored the Capitol audience must be getting. Me hiking and everyone else sitting around don't make for a very exciting games. They were probably hoping that mutt would rip me apart and provide a little entertainment back at the river. Bastards.

It isn't long before the lake comes into view and the cornucopia just beyond it, gleaming like some golden palace on a hill. I trudge over, knowing I wasted the entire day and that we're going hunting in only a few hours judging by the late-afternoon sun. I can see Brooke and Lewis fishing near the lake's edge while Peeta reads something he probably dug out of the supply boxes. Clove is right where I left her, playing with her knives near the mouth of the cornucopia. Cato and Glimmer are nowhere to be seen, the first welcome sight of the day.

"How'd it go?" Clove asks without looking up as I flop down on my sleeping bag.

"Lousy. It's hot as shit out there," I grumble, rubbing my sweaty face and tossing back some water.

"Any sign of the girl on fire?" Clove asks, her voice cold.

"Unfortunately, no," I answer, "No sign of Thresh either."

"Oh we know where he is," Clove says.

I sit up. "What?"

"Yeah. We're pretty sure he's in that big wheat field behind the cornucopia," she says.

I'd seen that wheat field yesterday. It's huge and the grass reached all the way up to my shoulders, which, given my height, is nothing to scoff at. It's the perfect hiding place for someone as big as Thresh. Now I know why he hauled ass over that rise not long after the Bloodbath started.

"I'm surprised Cato hasn't gone in after him," I say.

"He's actually the one who decided to hold off," Clove says.

"That's…unexpected," I manage.

Clove just shrugs. "It makes sense. In there, he'd be at a huge advantage. Better to wait for him to come fight us on our terms."

It makes perfect sense and I'm glad we're not going after Thresh yet. Not only would it be dangerous as hell, the longer he's alive, the longer I can count on the alliance not collapsing. To face Thresh, even Cato will want backup.

Clove is quiet for a moment, her nimble fingers still flipping a small knife with impressive dexterity. "See anything interesting about the arena out there?" she asks.

"There isn't much water, except for the river that flows off the lake. I'm not sure how far back it goes, but there's probably tributes nearby," I say, omitting the part about the lizard mutts swimming around in the river. One of my fellow careers just might figure that out firsthand.

"I suppose it wasn't a total loss then," says Clove.

"Where are Cato and Glimmer?" I ask.

"According to Cato, hunting," says Clove dryly, "Which is probably code for fucking."

I can't help but laugh at that and Clove's reaction. She just looks annoyed beyond belief.

"Perhaps you should neuter him," I suggest, lying back and closing my eyes.

"He'd certainly waste less time," mutters Clove as her gaze drifts back out to the forest, almost like her glare could level it and expose Cato and Glimmer's…relations to all of Panem. Actually, with the cameras, that's already happening. I hope Striker isn't watching that shit. God knows the Capitol is probably lapping it up, though.

"Wake me up when it's time to hunt," I say before rolling over.

Clove just grunts in affirmation, her cold eyes still watching the trees as I fall asleep.

* * *

 **A/N: The response to the last chapter was tremendous and I couldn't wait to get this out. It's a bit slower of a chapter than the last one, but it I think it serves its purpose. As always, all reviews, favorites and follows are greatly appreciated.**


	11. Into the Inferno

To say tensions are high is an understatement. Last night's hunt yielded a total of zero tributes, meaning nobody died yesterday. While that's not a big deal to me, it's a big deal to everyone else, especially the gamemakers. Forget Cato's ranting and Clove's fidgeting at not having killed anything other than a few unfortunate squirrels lately, the audience must be getting bored, which means the gamemakers will be getting creative. Probably very soon.

That thought makes me uneasy as I sit on guard duty, my trusty spear in my hands. After yesterdays' incident with the mutt, I'm never letting it out of my sight again. I feel it's sturdy body and run my fingers along its lethal point. It's more beautiful than a flower, more reliable than most friends. People can let you down, double-cross you or not do what you ask of them. A spear doesn't do that. It's about as loyal a thing as you could find in the arena, always rising to your defense.

I wonder what Katniss thinks. Obviously she's not dead, but our plans aren't working out. I haven't been able to find her. We haven't come up with a way to get her a bow. We certainly haven't figured out a way to dispose of the other careers, even if I'm a bit hesitant to see Lewis and Brooke die. I hope Katniss doesn't think I've blown her off and decided to hunt her down, especially after what she told me. Those moments were some of the most sincere I've ever experienced, mostly because Katniss understood. Back in District One, pretty much everyone at the Academy lived the high-life, except for me. None of those kids knew what it was like to worry if one of your parents was going to make it or if your sibling would see their next birthday. Katniss understood, thought. Hell, she endured even more than me. I hope she doesn't think it was bullshit, that I made it all up to play her.

The first signs of dawn are approaching. We came in earlier than yesterday, frustrated by the lack of success. Cato placed me on guard duty before falling asleep with everyone else, Glimmer snuggling into him as always and avoiding guard duty. Everyone's taken a turn but Cato and her. Well, Peeta hasn't, but that's because he's completely untrustworthy. I look back at his bulky form, hidden beneath his black sleeping bag like cargo. I never thought there'd be anyone I trust less than Cato, but Peeta's done it, although I can't quite keep my personal feelings out of it. He's selling out my only friend, his district partner and the girl he pretended to be in love with. I know it's the Hunger Games, but still. It's a pretty shitty thing to do.

I feel nature calling. I look back and see everyone else still asleep, although District Two looks ready to spring into action at a moment's notice, likely the result of years of military training. Fucking peacekeepers.

They'll keep for at least another hour. I leave the mouth of the metallic horn and walk along its golden side. I lean my spear against it, always within arms-reach, and unzip my fly. I close my eyes and let go, feeling immense relief and hearing what sounds like rain hitting the side of the cornucopia. I spot a patch of dirt in the pre-dawn light, sprouting out from under the metal of the horn into the green field of the arena. I grin and decide to mark my territory.

M…

A…

R…

V…

E…

I'm just about to put a little flourish on my "L" when I hear the distinctive sound of crinkling, like a package being opened. A package like a package of beef jerky. Like we have in our supply crates just outside the mouth.

I frown. It could be one of us just getting some breakfast…but then why wouldn't they be upset that I was taking a piss instead of watching for trouble? I put my member away and silently grab my spear, creeping around the toward the mouth. Christ, I hope it's not Thresh. Maybe I'll get lucky and it'll just be a hungry raccoon.

I get my flashlight out of my pocket as I approach the corner. Peeking around, I can see the silhouette of something rummaging through the crates. I find my courage and my spear and turn the flashlight on.

The boy from Three is suddenly illuminated, dragged out of the darkness that had concealed him. His face pales and his wide eyes stare back at me, terrified. So terrified that he drops the package of food he was holding, which unfortunately hits a discarded frying pan with a sharp clank.

I hear Cato mumble off to the right and I know this kid is done. I may not kill him, but there isn't much I can do to save him from Cato, who he's woken up with his insane food raid. He must've been really desperate to try it while we're still here.

"What the…" mumbles Cato as he stumbles up from his sleeping bag, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes.

Suddenly they widen, meeting those of the boy from Three, who finally remembers running is probably in his best interest right now. Cato is frozen for a second, watching the small boy sprinting towards the safety of the woods as fast as his little legs will carry him. Then, without even a glance toward me or my flashlight, he's gone, tearing after the boy like a wolf running down a young deer.

Clove's up now, jogging up to me, still clutching one of her knives. "What's going on?" she asks, her dark eyes jumping around excitedly.

"Cato's catching a thief," I answer, pointing towards the boy from Three's tiny form disappearing into the woods, Cato right on his heels.

Clove grins and tears off after the pair, eager to join in on the "fun". The others are all stirring behind me. I can hear a few groans, muttered curses and Glimmer's distinct whine, probably at not having Cato beside her. I sigh and sit down, resting my spear in my lap and putting my flashlight on the ground. I try not to feel guilty. The boy from Three would have to go eventually, but I still wish I hadn't exposed him to Cato and Clove. Nobody deserves to go that way, not even Peeta, who's one of the few people here I'm actually convinced deserves to die.

"Jesus, what time is it?" asks Brooke, sitting up in her sleeping bag and letting out a large yawn.

"Little before dawn," I answer.

Lewis mumbles in his sleep, but doesn't wake. Peeta's bag-covered form shifts, but fortunately stays asleep.

"W-where's Cato?" Glimmer asks sleepily, propping herself up on her elbows.

"Probably decapitating the boy from Three," I say.

"Where's Clove?" Glimmer asks, noticing the empty sleeping bag usually occupied by the fierce girl.

"Helping Cato," I answer. I try not to laugh as I hear Glimmer huff.

"He could've asked me," she grumbles, evidently not happy at Cato spending time with a girl other than her.

"What's the matter? Jealous?" asks Brooke, now fully awake and smirking at my irked district partner.

"No," Glimmer lies, her voice venomous. I recognize the look she's giving Brooke as one she's given me often and it's not exactly friendly.

I spot two forms emerging from the forest, but surprisingly we haven't heard a cannon. "If you want to have a lover's quarrel, here he comes," I say.

Glimmer ignores me and goes and kicks Peeta in the ribs, yelling at him to wake up. She's about to do the same to Lewis, but decides against it when she sees the deadly look on Brooke's face, who gently wakes her district partner herself.

We grab our weapons and jog out to meet our allies, Peeta still holding his side. I kinda wish Glimmer had kicked him harder. As we get closer, I notice it's not just Cato and Clove. Cato holds the squirming form of the boy from Three on his shoulder. When they see us, they stop and Cato throws the boy on the ground as if he weighed no more than an article of clothing.

"Lookee what we caught," Cato says, obviously very pleased with himself, "A silly, silly little thief."

Now I know why Cato didn't kill the boy yet. He wants an audience. As if he didn't already have one.

Clove draws her knife and kneels beside the trembling boy, who looks like he's trying to find the courage to speak. "And how do y'all think we should handle a thief?" she asks.

"Cut him apart. Start with his hands," says Glimmer.

"Really? I was gonna start with his face, saving his eyes for last so he can see everything I'm doing," Clove says, that feral grin back on her face.

"Solid suggestions, but I was thinking we'd put him on a pike and leave him for the mutts," chuckles Cato.

Brooke looks disgusted again, but stays silent along with Lewis, Peeta and I. Just like with Ava, there isn't much we can do.

"Wait! Y-you don't have to kill me!" pleads the boy, the suggestions finally breaking his terrified silence.

Cato scoffs, Clove and Glimmer laugh and the rest of us are silent. I feel a bit sick. Once again, I'm going to have to watch this.

"Don't you know a thing about the Hunger Games? Sorry kid, but you gotta go," says Clove coldly, "Cato, would you like to do the honors?"

"No, I'll defer to you this time. I got the last one and I'm nothing if not a generous man," he says in a ridiculous parody of manners. I roll my eyes. Technically, he didn't get the last one. I had to take care of it for him.

"Wait! I can help you!" yells the boy as Clove stalks toward him, clutching her serrated knife, a knife ideal for sawing through things.

"Sure you can," mocks Clove, stomping her surprisingly powerful foot onto the small boy's chest, effectively immobilizing him.

"No! Wait! Wait! I'm serious! I promise I can help you!" he pleads.

Clove rolls her dark eyes, but pauses. "And how's that?" she asks.

"Your supplies. You need to protect them right? I can help with that," he says.

Everyone is silent for a moment.

"We have guards to do that," Clove says evenly.

"I could make it so you don't need guards. Ever," says the boy from Three.

"How?" Clove asks, pressing her foot down harder for emphasis.

The boy groans from the pressure on his chest, but answers in a wheezy voice. "I can re-arm the mines."

This time, the silence isn't just in the group. It's everywhere, spreading from the green field to the depths of the forest and beyond. It's almost as if the gamemakers have ordered all the simulated nature silent, holding their breath and waiting for an answer.

When I see Cato's face break into that wicked, gleaming grin, I already know the answer.

* * *

Thank god the gamemakers included some shovels in the cornucopia or this would be a lot harder. I feel sweat dripping down my aching back in the midday sun, but keep going, driving my spade back into the soft earth. For once, everyone's pitching in, even Glimmer despite her complaints. Me, Lewis, Brooke and Peeta are digging an area of shallow holes surrounding the pyramid of supply crates that Clove, Cato and Glimmer are erecting. Back at the cornucopia, the boy from Three, whose name is revealed to be Cooper, sits nervously, surrounded by the pile of mines we spent all morning digging up. He's opened up one and is playing with the wires, obviously searching for some magic combination that will make the hunk of metal deadly again.

"For his sake, he better not be lying," says Brooke, digging beside me.

"They'll do even worse than they planned if he can't come through," comments Lewis, eyes drifting towards Cato and Clove as they haul crates.

"He's hasn't tried to run yet. He must be pretty confident he can do it," I say, pitching another chunk of dirt over my shoulder.

Brooke scoffs. "When people are desperate, they'll say anything. Anything," she says, gaze drifting towards Peeta on the other side of the pyramid.

"You think he doesn't know much about her?" I ask. I'd seen Peeta whispering to Cato during last night's hunt, but I couldn't hear what they were saying and neither one of them disclosed it. I assumed it was about Katniss and had fleeting thoughts of spearing Peeta right there.

Brooke shakes her head. "I don't think he knows shit. He already admitted he doesn't feel anything towards her and I'm pretty confident she doesn't feel a thing towards him. If they weren't together, I doubt he knows much about her," she says.

"Really? I saw her blushing during the interviews, when he made his big declaration. It seemed like it mattered to her," says Lewis.

"I think that was embarrassment. I think she was embarrassed and confused when he said that. I bet they barely knew each other back home, if at all," Brooke says, stabbing her shovel into the dirt, "What do you think, Marvel?"

I hesitate a moment, already knowing Katniss doesn't love Peeta because she told me. But I also know Brooke isn't entirely right about Katniss and Peeta's relationship. They do know each other from that bread incident.

"I think you're right. She doesn't seem like the type to broadcast her secrets to everyone in her district," I answer, trying to keep all the knowledge I couldn't have unless I'd associated with the enemy out of my statement.

"I dunno. I still think something's up," Lewis says, unaware of how right he is.

"And I still think that weasel is feeding Cato a bunch of lies to stay alive," Brooke mutters, driving her shovel down more violently than before.

Peeta comes over from the other side, smiling and unaware we'd just been discussing him. "I'm done over there," he says, "How're you guys doing?"

"Last one," I grunt, driving my shovel down again. All around the pyramid, it looks like there's a gopher infestation. We've been quite busy.

"We're about done," Brooke answers evenly, obviously suppressing her dislike of Peeta. As always, Lewis looks fairly calm.

We finish quickly and head back up to the cornucopia, where the others are all clustered around Cooper, having finished stacking crates a while ago.

"Can you hurry it up?" Cato asks, his voice betraying his diminishing patience.

Cooper's fingers twitch as they mess around with the wires. "It…shouldn't take too much longer," he answers.

"How much longer?" demands Cato, his large presence casting a shadow over Cooper.

"Just a f-few minutes. Please, this is a really delicate process…" stammers Cooper, impossibly nervous.

"Well, you better move it along. If you can't get these things armed, then you're not worth keeping around," sneers Cato. I notice Cooper's knees shaking and feel nothing but sympathy for the poor kid.

"Cato, leave him alone," Clove snaps, "If you scare him and he makes a mistake, we're all gonna get blown up."

Cato looks like he's about retort when what Clove said hits him. We all take several steps back from Cooper, who looks relieved despite the fact that he's holding an explosive. I guess Cato's presence is really unnerving.

Cato crosses his arms and taps his foot on the ground impatiently. Clove plays with her knives while Glimmer plays with her hair. As always, the rest of us are silent, waiting and hoping that Cooper can do what he said. If he doesn't, he's probably in for something worse than I can even imagine.

Then I notice Cooper connect two wires and a red light flickers to life on the mine's side. Shaking more than ever, he stands up and holds the mine out from his body like some kind of sacred relic.

"It's ready," he says.

Judging by the look on Cato's face, I think he's pretty satisfied.

* * *

We start our hunt right after a late lunch. Once Cooper figured it out, he got the other mines armed pretty quickly. We buried them all around the pyramid of supplies, making it effectively impenetrable if you don't know the pathway in. Cato left our newest member back at the camp, telling him to guard our sleeping bags if he wanted to stay alive. It's probably for the best. Cooper didn't look like he'd be much use in the woods.

"I knew that little shit would prove his worth," Cato smirks from the front of the line.

"Says the man who was ready to kill him when he wasn't arming it quickly enough," drawls Clove as she walks alongside him.

Cato just shrugs at her. "Sometimes people require a little extra motivation and nothing motivates you to do your best like your life being on the line," he says.

"You don't think he'll try to steal anything again, do you? He does know the path," Glimmer says.

"I doubt it. Where would he go if he did? He obviously didn't have much food out there. It's the only way to explain why he'd do something as crazy as try to steal from our supply while we were right next to it," I say, walking beside Brooke and Lewis as usual. Peeta walks alone during the hunts, usually not speaking unless Cato requests it.

"Yeah, I guess Coop isn't much of an outdoorsman," Cato says with a grin, "At least he'll be close by once he's outlived his usefulness."

"That little dork won't be too hard to dispose of. Did you see how much he was shaking when you were talking to him?" Glimmer laughs, once again unaware that Cato will dispose of all of us once we've "outlived our usefulness." Everyone except Glimmer and Clove, who's probably the only person Cato isn't planning to axe the moment Thresh and Katniss are out of the way, looks like they share my thoughts.

We all know we're playing a very dangerous game here.

Our trek takes us deeper into the woods. I recognize some of the territory from my solo explorations…or maybe I just think I do. Once again, many of these trees look the same. I take a deep breath through my nose, but pause when I smell something. I know that smell, like the smell of a chimney.

"Does anyone else smell smoke?" I ask.

No sooner are the words out of my mouth than I spot a fireball flying towards me. I drop to the ground, feeling the heat on my back as it whizzes over me. The situation immediately dissolves into chaos as more and more fireballs fly in, crashing into the trees and shrubs and setting everything around us on fire. What was a peaceful forest a moment ago suddenly devolves into an inferno.

I cough and try to peer through the smoke, trying to see beyond this vision of hell. The fires blaze behind and beside us and continue advancing, driving us forward. I take off, sprinting and coughing alongside my allies, running towards wherever it is the gamemakers want us to go. I guess when we didn't kill Cooper, they'd had enough and decided to force some action. I keep sprinting until I hear a female scream behind me. I turn to see Brooke collapsing on the ground, her leg scorched by a fireball.

"Brooke!" yells Lewis in a terrified voice I've never heard from him before.

"Leave her!" barks Cato as he, Clove, Glimmer and Peeta run off into the smoke.

Lewis drops to his knees beside her, desperately trying to pick her up as she winces in pain.

"Lewis…go," she says weakly as she writhes in pain on the forest floor.

"No! I'm not leaving you behind!" he yells, his voice raspy from the smoke.

The fires continue closing in and, without thinking, I run over. Lewis looks surprised, but doesn't say anything. Together, we hoist Brooke to her feet and start moving as fast as we can, ignoring her gasps of pain. My height is no advantage here as the smoke stings my eyes and my lungs. Lewis is gasping too, but I can feel the heat of the flames at our back. Stopping isn't an option.

The smoke seems to stop at the tree line. Lewis and I tap into our last reserves of energy and push through, stumbling out onto the bank of the river where our four compassionate friends sit. We're panting, exhausted, soot-covered, but alive.

They all look surprised to see us and I give my fiercest glare to each. We help Brooke down to the water, which is fortunately too shallow here to hide any mutts. Brooke hisses as she sits down and I can now see why. The fabric on her calf is completely burned off, leaving an obscenely red, almost melted patch of burned skin in its place.

"Thank you, Marvel," Lewis says as he begins to pour cool water over the burn.

"Do you need anything else?" I ask.

Lewis shakes his head. "Go rest for a while. You deserve it," he says.

Without another word, I go to sit by the river, ignoring everyone else and gulping down water. I don't even care if it's untreated. I just need something to soothe the burning in my throat.

"You're fuckin' insane, you know that?" Cato asks from behind me.

I don't turn around to look at him. I don't answer either. I just continue drinking.

"She's not even your district partner. I sorta understand that idiot risking his life to save her, but why the hell would you do it?" Cato asks, his voice dripping with disdain.

I resist the urge to spear him. Thank god I didn't drop it back in the forest. Then I'd really be in for some shit.

"She's an ally. I wasn't going to leave her behind," I answer lamely.

Cato scoffs. "Yeah right. I bet if I was the one back there, burned and desperate for help, you'd keep on running," he says.

Cato's right of course, but I can't tell him that. I suddenly realize that I've started to consider Brooke and Lewis friends. It's the only explanation for why I'd risk my life to help them. Brooke, Lewis, Katniss. Somehow, I've made better friends in the Hunger Games than I did back home.

"I'd even help you," I lie, "Although I doubt you'd do the same for me."

"You're right. I wouldn't. And I'd be right to do so," Cato says casually before leaning down next to me to whisper in my ear, "Remember only one person wins this thing. That doesn't leave much room for friends."

"So you'd leave Clove behind then, right?" I ask with a smirk, knowing I've got him there.

Cato's jaw clenches and his beady eyes narrow. "I'll protect her as long as I possibly can. Don't test me on that," he says before storming off back to his district partner and Glimmer.

I notice a parachute float down to Brooke and Lewis. Good. They're probably getting some much needed medicine. Whatever it is seems to do the trick because Brooke is able to stand up and walk after that, although she's still not at full-speed. We rest for a while, but know we can't stay here.

"Let's get moving," Cato says.

"Where to?" Peeta asks.

"Along the river, I guess. The gamemakers weren't trying to kill us. They were trying to drive us here to find something," Cato says.

"Or someone," Clove adds with her wicked smile.

Cato returns it. "Exactly."

We get up and start moving, still hacking and slow from the fire. Even those that didn't hang around in it look tired. I'm certainly feeling it. I walk just ahead of Lewis and Brooke, who's being supported by her district partner. I can't help but feel envious. It must be nice to have someone nearby you can count on.

For the first time, Clove takes lead, probably because she seems to have inhaled the least smoke. Lucky short bastard. Cato and Glimmer are just behind her, followed by Peeta, me and District Four.

Clove has just rounded a turn in the in the river when I hear here let out an excited cry.

"There she is!" she screams with excitement.

I sprint beside her to see who "she" is and my heart drops into my stomach. There, lying injured in the river and practically gift-wrapped, is Katniss Everdeen.

* * *

 **A/N: We're getting the band back together! Too bad the other Careers are in the way. Once again, I received so many great responses to the last chapter and I can't thank you guys enough. As always, all reviews, follows and favorites are greatly appreciated.**


	12. Reunion

Time stops for that moment. I see Katniss staring back at us, sitting in the shallows across the river. The others stare back too, unable to believe what they're seeing. One of the biggest threats left in the games is only a stone's throw away and, from the looks of it, completely unarmed.

Then, with some unspoken signal or understanding, we both start running, Katniss sprinting back into the forest and us bounding across the river to follow her. Cato takes lead, his long legs carrying him through the water with ease. Me and Glimmer are right behind him, possessing a similar advantage. I guess the others are behind me, but I don't see or hear them. I run desperately, still hacking from the smoke in my lungs. I have no idea how I'll help Katniss, but I do know that if Cato catches her first, I won't be able to.

Despite her head start, I can see we're gaining, closing in like the predators we are. Then she surprises me. She scampers up a tree with the climbing ability of a squirrel. I can hear the sound of running feet behind me as I join Cato at the base of the tree.

"Got her," announces Cato triumphantly, his cold gaze on Katniss, who's so high up in the tree that it makes me dizzy just looking at her.

By now, all the other slow-pokes have caught up, including Clove.

"Glad you were able to make it across without drowning. That must've been what? A foot of water? Maybe two?" Cato mocks, drawing a glare from the short girl.

"Piss off," she says, coughing and turning her gaze back to Katniss.

Once again, we all silently size each other up. Surprisingly, it's Katniss who ultimately breaks the silence.

"How's everything with you?" she calls down cheerfully.

I can tell by Cato's face that he was expecting something closer to pleading. The others look equally surprised, especially Peeta, who looks transfixed at the sight of Katniss in the tree.

"Well enough," Cato answers, "Yourself?"

Katniss shrugs. "It's been a bit warm for my tastes," she quips.

This is weird. Either she's got some nasty surprise that's giving her all this confidence or she's gone nuts from being out in the woods this whole time.

"The air's better up here. Why don't you come up?" says Katniss, goading Cato to action.

"Think I will," Cato answers, swaggering up to the tree trunk.

"Here, take this, Cato," Glimmer says, offering his silver bow and arrows to the hulking boy.

If I could only find a way to get those to Katniss, this could be over in a few seconds.

"No, I'll do better with my sword," Cato says, waving the bow off and patting the heavy blade hanging from his belt.

The second his hands hit the bark, Katniss starts climbing again, higher and higher into the tree. I'm amazed. She looks like she's almost eighty feet up. I bet if I even attempted that I'd break my goddamn neck. Then again, I am a lot heavier than her.

Heavier. My eyes widen. Katniss is pretty light…but Cato isn't. As I watch him climb after the girl from Twelve, I wonder how much longer those tree branches can support over two-hundred pounds of muscle. The answer comes as a loud crack when Cato's about halfway up the tree. It's borderline hilarious the way he falls, flapping his arms around as if he could fly and smacking into a few branches on the way down. He hits the ground with a tremendous thud. For a moment, I wonder if he's dead, but he gets up, uttering every curse in the English language as Glimmer rushes to his side. I glance at Brooke and Lewis, who I can tell are fighting the same battle as me to suppress their laughter.

Glimmer starts climbing immediately after that, determined until she hears a similar crack. That pretty much takes the starch out of her and she comes back down before she falls. Once down, Cato orders her to shoot. Glimmer nods and notches an arrow, but it's pretty obvious she's useless with a bow. The arrow lands harmlessly in the bark near Katniss, who yanks it out and waves it at her teasingly.

Goddamn it, Katniss. Stop pissing them off even more.

Glimmer huffs and fires another arrow that doesn't even hit the tree this time.

"Give me that," Cato snaps, taking the bow and firing an arrow that misses as well.

"Maybe you should throw the sword," Katniss calls down and I can hear the laughter in her voice. If the situation wasn't so dire, maybe I'd laugh too.

"What do we do now?" Glimmer asks, reclaiming her bow from Cato.

"We gotta get her down somehow," Cato says angrily, still simmering from his hilarious attempt at flight.

"Yeah, but how?" Glimmer asks.

"I don't know!" Cato thunders.

"We could set the tree on fire. Force her to jump," suggests Clove.

"Have we got any lighter fluid?" Glimmer asks.

"No," Cato mutters.

"I've had enough of fire for one day anyway," Brooke grumbles, still leaning on Lewis.

"Then how do you suggest we get her down?" Glimmer snaps.

"Maybe you should ask her nicely," Brooke drawls.

"Maybe you should shut up," Glimmer snaps.

It goes back and forth like that for a while. I lean against the trunk and watch my fellow careers snapping at each other and throwing out every possible idea for getting Katniss down except, amazingly, chopping down the tree. Lewis and Peeta are hanging back, watching the others going at it, although Peeta is making a conscious effort not to look at Katniss, who I'm sure isn't too pleased with him.

The arguing continues and I can see the sun dropping in the sky, our window of opportunity closing with every passing second. I step back and look up at Katniss, who appears to be watching the arguing. Her grey eyes then meet my green ones and I freeze. I mostly see confusion there, along with some anger and some hurt. I feel like turning away, but I know I can't. I deserve it. I didn't fulfill my part of the bargain in time and now we're in trouble. I can't see my own gaze, but I'm sure it's sad. All I can hope is that we figure a way out of this.

"Do you think we could hang some bait up there and attract some mutts?" suggests Glimmer.

Clove scoffs. "That may be the most retarded idea I've ever heard," she sneers.

"Well, what are we supposed to do? We can't just leave her up there," fumes Glimmer.

"I agree. We're not gonna get this opportunity again," says Cato, crossing his arms over his massive chest.

"It's almost dark. How the hell are we gonna get her down before nightfall?" Brooke asks, more frustrated than I've ever seen her, probably a result of her injury.

"I don't know, but maybe…" Cato trails off, uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

"Look around! We're out of fucking time! We need a solution or we need to go back!" Brooke snaps, her voice rising above the tall trees.

"We can't go back to the cornucopia, especially after she made us look so stupid!" Glimmer snaps.

"That's never really a challenge with you is it?" Brooke mutters.

"Fuck you!" spits Glimmer.

"No thanks. Your pants are crowded enough with Cato already in them," Brooke retorts.

They start yelling at each other again and it's a good thing because I couldn't suppress a chuckle at that last line. I see Lewis trying not to smile as well. The bickering swells, engulfing Cato and Clove as well. Once again, I find myself hanging back, waiting for the storm to die down. Lewis does the same, but Peeta surprisingly doesn't.

"Oh, let her stay up there. It's not like she's going anywhere. We'll deal with her in the morning," Peeta says, bringing the argument to a screeching halt.

The others are quiet, obviously contemplating the idea. I don't like it one bit. If I'm going to help Katniss out, I need to get them away from this tree or at the very least divide them. I can't do that if they're all just going to camp out under it.

"It might not be a good idea to stay out here all night. Who knows what kind of mutts are crawling around," I say, hoping this scares them into going back to the cornucopia.

"No, it's a good idea," Cato says, dismissing my concerns with his usual air of authority, "We'll just wait her out. Someone make a fire."

Oh Shit.

* * *

We're all huddled near the fire, embraced in it's warm glow. All around us, darkness has swallowed the forest, minus this fire and tree, which might as well be the whole world right now. My fire-starter knife came in handy since nobody remembered to bring matches. Cato sent Lewis back to watch Cooper a few hours ago, claiming we had plenty of people here already and needed to make sure Thresh didn't dispose of our newest ally in our absence. I think he really just wanted to split up Brooke and Lewis, the only cohesive pair left in the games minus him and Clove. He already knows me and Glimmer can't stand each other. If nobody else has an ally backing them up, he's got a two to one advantage in any fight.

Cato and Glimmer are sitting close to the fire. Cato keeps heating the tip of his sword on the coals and staring at the glowing orange metal like it's a work of art. Glimmer spends most of her time flirting with Cato, only periodically drawing his attention away from his sword. Clove hangs off to the right, throwing small knives into a lizard that foolishly wandered through our campsite. Peeta sits by himself as always, lost in his thoughts and a depressed look on his face. Maybe the reality of what he did to Katniss is really hitting home. I hope it is. The prick deserves every bit of guilt he's feeling.

My gaze drifts up to the tree Katniss sits in. I can't spot her in the darkness, although she can definitely see us thanks to the fire. I wonder if she's watching us, devising a crafty escape plan. Or perhaps she's already asleep. If I know one thing, it's that she hasn't given up. Anyone who can pick up the pieces and go on after a tragedy isn't easily destroyed again. Tragedy hardens you and makes you almost bulletproof. Things that might've made you cry before suddenly mean nothing. You start to realize most things are trivial and that you can survive them because you've survived far worse. I learned that from myself.

It's cold out, yet another way the gamemakers show us their love. I warm my hands over the fire, feeling the sensations of heat jumping to my fingertips and spreading through my hands, down my arms and into my torso. I look over and notice Brooke slumping against a tree, just at the edge of the glowing circle.

"How you doing?" I ask, walking over to sit beside her. She lifts her head up to look at me and gives a tired smile.

"I'm alright," she says.

"How's the leg doing?" I ask, motioning towards the injury that's now covered in a bandage.

"See for yourself," she says, removing the gauze. I'm immediately impressed by the capabilities of Capitol medicine. What was an angry, scalding burn of melted flesh a few hours ago has transformed into soft, pink baby-skin that looks damn near healed.

"Looks like you'll be back to full-speed in no time," I say, stretching my legs out and looking at the stars peeking out through the gaps between the tree branches.

"Hopefully," Brooke says quietly. She pauses for a while before continuing. "I never thanked you."

"Huh?" I ask.

"I never thanked you…for saving my life, I mean," says Brooke softly.

"It's fine," I shrug, "It wasn't just me either. Lewis was right beside you too."

"I know. He's…he's the best district partner I could've asked for and I knew what kind of person he was. I knew he'd help me when I needed it," Brooke says, "But I didn't know you would too."

"I'd be kind of a shitty friend to leave you like that," I say with a chuckle.

"You consider me a friend?" Brooke asks.

"Well…yeah. I know it's the Hunger Games, but I consider you and Lewis my friends," I say.

Brooke's face lights up into a smile. "I'm afraid I do too," she says with a sigh.

It's quiet for a moment, the crackling of the fire and the chirping of crickets mixing with Cato and Glimmer's muffled conversation.

"I wish things didn't have to be this way," Brooke says finally.

"Yeah," I answer, "It kinda sucks doesn't it?"

Brooke nods. "We could've been such good friends, you, me, Lewis. If only we'd met somewhere other than the fucking Hunger Games," she says bitterly.

I nod in understanding. I've felt this way for a while, about her, about Lewis…about Katniss. I wonder what we'd all be doing if we'd all been from the same district? Would we be hanging out, laughing and going on camping trips? I can see it. I bet Brooke can too. And that's what makes this all so terrible.

"Can I tell you something?" she asks.

"Sure," I say.

"I've got a bad feeling, like I don't have too much longer," she says quietly.

I instantly know what she means and I don't like it one bit. "Stop talking like that. You're fine," I say tersely.

"I know I'm fine right now, but ever since I got hit by that fireball I've had this ominous feeling. Like I've already outlived my time. Like I was supposed to die back in that fire and I'm cheating death just by being here now," she says, her voice way too calm for such a topic.

"Brooke, we're in the Hunger Games. All of us except for one are living on borrowed time right now. If you get lucky, just accept it and don't think about it too hard. Trust me, you'll never find an answer for why some things happen the way they do. I know. I've tried," I say, my voice forceful even in our hushed tones.

Brooke stares back towards the fire and the other careers. "Marvel, can you promise me something?" she asks.

"That depends on what it is," I answer, skeptical of what might be asked of me.

"If something happens to me and Lewis, I want you to promise me that you'll win and make sure one of those bastards doesn't," Brooke says, her eyes burning as they survey the others.

"I promise," I say earnestly.

Brooke smiles again and relaxes against the tree. "Thank you. You're a good friend, Marvel. I'm sorry I never did more for you," she says.

I smile back. "Trust me, you did plenty."

Not long after that, we pull in closer to the fire and get ready for bed. Despite her protests, Clove finally forces Glimmer to take a long-overdue turn on guard duty. I can't help but smirk as I curl up into my sleeping bag, seeing the pissed off look on her face. My joy doesn't last for long. I still have no plan for how to help Katniss or how to even talk to her. I've got no paper to send a message and I can't even climb within earshot without Glimmer noticing. I lie there, simmering in my frustrations and worried about tomorrow. By then, they may figure out a way to axe Katniss and then I'm really screwed. Hell, if they're torturing her, she may even divulge my treachery just to take me down with her.

My brooding go on, uninterrupted until a familiar sensation grabs my attention. Just like this morning, nature is calling. I get up and exit the campsite, not even receiving a questioning looks from Glimmer. I walk back a bit and find a nice tree. I unzip my fly and let all my tensions flow out again. My head tilts back in sweet relief and that's when I notice something in the tree to my left. I notice an odd little tree branch sticking out. One that almost looks like a hand.

Then it hits me. It is a hand and a hand means a tribute. I zip my fly so quickly that I pinch myself, cursing quietly before I'm able to get everything in order. I can't see anything else in the dark mass of the tree, but I can see that the hand is pointing. I follow its direction and notice it's pointing to Katniss' tree, where I can just make out her seated silhouette against the slightly lighter sky. Then, with some unspoken signal, Katniss begins climbing again, even higher into the tree. The hand-wielding tribute then disappears and I can tell by the rustling in nearby trees that they're jumping through the treetops. Only one tribute comes to mind. The same one that moved through the rope course with unbelievable speed. The same one agile enough to swipe Cato's knife and escape into the rafters. Rue.

So the kid's hanging in there and apparently helping Katniss. I turn my gaze back towards the tree just as I hear the anthem start. There were no deaths today so there's nothing to see, although I'm sure Katniss being trapped is keeping the Capital audience satisfied for now. Katniss looks like she's messing around with one of the branches, but I can't quite tell from here. Then, as soon as the anthem ends, she scampers back down to her original spot. Curious.

I look around for some tree to climb that could get me close enough to talk to her, but I don't see one. I don't even have any rocks or acorns to throw to get her attention. Frustrated and no closer to helping Katniss than I was three hours ago, I trudge back to camp and my sleeping bag. Glimmer is still awake and unfortunately clutching her bow and arrows, eliminating the possibility of me finding a way to get those damn things to Katniss. I curl up in my sleeping bag and watch the sky, my last thoughts before sleep being how lousy an ally I really am.

* * *

 **A/N: This was actually one of the more enjoyable chapters to write. I think it's because of all the Career dialogue. The more reserved characters definitely have their place in the story, but I'd be lying if I said they were as much fun. As always, all reviews, follows and favorites are greatly appreciated.**


	13. Crossing the Rubicon

My eyes open the next morning to the faint sound of sawing. I look around for the source, but don't see anything. Everyone else is still asleep, including Glimmer, our supposed guard. I roll my eyes and sit up, letting out a large yawn as I do. The sawing picks up and my ears register a new sound, a very faint buzzing. Morning is just breaking, but it's overcast, limiting our light a bit.

I look up into the trees with their windows of grey sky and spot Katniss. She's not asleep. She's up and sawing through a branch with a knife I didn't even know she had. Well, that explains one noise. I follow the length of the branch before my jaw falls off. Dangling from the edge of the branch like some hideous ornament is a gargantuan wasps' nest…and it's hanging directly above us. My eyes flip back to Katniss, who's swatting wasps away and almost through the branch. I hear a crack, just like the one before Cato fell, and the branch falls. It's then that my brain starts working again and I scramble to my feet, fortunately remembering to grab my spear.

I'm taking my first stride out of the campground when I hear the nest break open behind me and the tranquil sounds of the morning vanish. Screaming, both male and female, takes their place along with the buzzing of the furious insects, already seeking out their enemies. I hear frantic calls of "To the lake!" and feet pounding behind me. I'm way ahead by then, but apparently not enough. I feel the first sting on my arm and it's then that I know these aren't ordinary wasps. These are tracker jackers. No normal wasp has a sting that burns and aches like this. I feel another one on the back of my neck, but keep running. My vision's getting hazy and I begin to stumble, but I know that if I fall down, I'll never get up again.

The buzzing is getting louder and louder when the lake comes into view. I put on a final burst of speed, desperate to out-distance the wasps to the safety of the water. I drop my spear on the bank and dive in gracelessly. I hear a few splashes behind me, probably my fellow careers, but I don't dare resurface. I hold my breath and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to ignore the searing pain in my arm and neck. My lungs burn, desperate for air, but I hold on. Nobody can survive more than a few tracker jacker stings and I've already got two.

When I feel myself slipping unconscious, I burst out of the water and take and desperate gulp of air. I crawl wearily onto the bank and look around. My vision's shaky, but I can make out Peeta, stumbling out of the water and back into the woods. Where the hell is he going? Cato must be thinking the same thing because he follows him, holding a sword he must've had the quick thinking to save from our campsite.

Then it hits me. They're going back to kill Katniss. Seized with new purpose, I grab my spear and hurry after them. I'm just reaching the trees when I hear two cannon shots. Oh shit. I might've already failed my friend. If Peeta did it, he's done. I don't care what Cato says. If that weasel killed her, his time has come.

I stumble back in the direction we came…at least I think I am. The trees are all shifting around me, mixing together like watercolors with too much water. I blink my eyes and try to refocus. I can't give in to hallucinations. Not yet. In this haze, I spot a corpse on the ground. My breath hitches when I see who it is. Brooke. She doesn't look the same now, covered in swollen, oozing stings and her limbs contorted. My friend is dead. My friend who I didn't even think to warn because I was so busy saving myself. My friend who must've desperately tried to escape on her still injured leg. I suppress my tears and kneel down to close Brooke's eyes. She deserves better than that, but I can't stay. One of my remaining friends needs my help.

I stumble back towards our clearing, using my spear as more of a walking stick than I weapon. Then I see something I'm not sure is a hallucination or not. Katniss is swaying drunkenly, sporting a few stings herself and trying to pry the bow and quiver from what looks like Glimmer's corpse. Suddenly Peeta runs into the scene. Instead of killing her, like I expected, her starts prodding her and ordering her to get away.

What the fuck?

I feel nauseous and more confused than ever. Is Peeta protecting Katniss now? When the hell did that start? Or was that always his plan? Was he just working with us so that he could protect Katniss when the time came? Suddenly what seemed black and white ten minutes ago is a muddled grey area.

I hear an angry sound off to the right. Apparently Peeta does too because he pales and shoves Katniss away. Surging through the brush, sword in hand and more pissed off than ever, is Cato.

"You fucking traitor!" he slurs at Peeta, furious but clearly affected by the stings, "We took you in! We looked after you and this is how you repay us?!"

They circle each other, ready to fight but not moving very gracefully. Katniss has already vanished.

"You were gonna kill her! I did what I had to do!" Peeta defends, holding his knife up as a pitiful defense against Cato's sword.

I shake my head again, trying to reconcile my concepts of Peeta. Apparently there's two Peetas: the spineless, self-serving snake and the devoted protector. But which one is real?

"Well I hope it was worth it! You're gonna die now and nobody, not even your little girlfriend, is going to remember you!" Cato sneers before springing into action. Peeta's reflexes are too slow and even when he's pumped full of tracker jacker venom, Cato's still pretty effective. He gives Peeta a wicked slash across his thigh. He lets out an agonized cry as the blood begins flowing, mixing with the dirt on the ground.

Peeta tries to scamper away, but Cato drives his foot down onto his injured leg. He towers over the boy, sword in hand and grin more evil than ever. He raises the sword and, without thinking, I act. I surge into the clearing and thrust my spear at Cato, which catches his arm. I was aiming for his head, but evidently my aim is off, curtesy of the tracker jackers. He lets out a yell, a mixture of pain and fury, and turns toward me, eyes burning.

"You?!" he sputters.

His foot leaves Peeta's chest, who looks as confused as I am but takes the opportunity to slip away, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

"I thought there was one traitor here! Turns out I'm fucking surrounded by them!" he fumes.

I can't even answer. I don't know what to say. I don't even know why I saved Peeta, but my foggy mind vaguely connects it to Katniss.

Without another word, Cato springs toward me, slashing at me with his bloodstained sword. I jump back, dodging the best I can and realizing the mistake I've made. A spear isn't meant for close-quarters combat…but a sword is. If it wasn't for the tracker jackers, I'd probably be dead by now. He's riddled by multiple stings and slower than he was in training…but still deadly. I block one slash on the shaft of my spear, but he isn't finished. He rakes it back the opposite direction and manages to catch my stomach. I wince and stumble back. It isn't deep, certainly not enough to be lethal, but it stings and I can feel my shirt sticking to the blood.

I see Cato advancing on me, the look in his eyes predatory. I know then I've gotta run. If I stay I'm dead. I swing the hilt of my spear out and get lucky, catching Cato across the face. He staggers back and I take that opportunity to run. I run the best I can but stumble thanks to the stings. I can hear Cato crashing through the forest behind me, giving chase. For the first time, genuine fear seizes me. I know I can't fight Cato but I don't know if I'll be able to escape. The river soon comes into view and I know I've got to cross it, mutts or no mutts. Still clutching my spear, I fling myself into the water and begin swimming. I shut my mouth to avoid swallowing water and try to fend of unconsciousness as I flail through the cool water.

With relief unlike any I've ever felt before, my hands reach the opposite bank and I clamber up. I look back to see Cato swimming after me…but something's following him. I see that familiar lizard mutt swim up and seize Cato's leg in its powerful jaws. He lets out another furious cry and begins hacking away at the creature with his sword.

I don't wait around to see the rest. I disappear into the woods, which are now wilder than ever. The colors keep shifting and I see a flock of bright pink birds run by, trailing each other like train-cars and casting suspicious glances my way. The sky turns into a mirror that shatters, sparkling pieces of glass falling back to earth. I panic and re-cross the river at a shallow point, although it's orange now and full of fish that jump up before sprouting wings and flying away. I don't know where anything is. The woods on this side of the river should be familiar, but they aren't. All I see are shifting tree trunks that suddenly turn to snakes that coil back to strike me. I fall to the ground, twisting, confused and trying to make sense of what I'm seeing. Nothing comes. Dark, black ants crawl all over my body. I scream and try to shake them off but can't. The last thing I see is my spear slithering away from my side before the ants black out my eyes and I slip into unconsciousness.

* * *

My dreams are terrible. Or perhaps they're not even dreams. They may just be more hallucinations from the tracker jacker venom. Virtually every bad thing that has ever happened in my life comes to haunt me, from my father losing his hand to the helpless kids I've slaughtered since I got in here. I see Brooke and Glimmer's contorted, sting-ridden bodies staring back at me, telling me I'm not far behind them, that I won't escape justice. It's a miracle I didn't have a heart attack in my sleep.

I groan the moment I wake up. My body is sore everywhere, especially on my stings and my wound. I blink my eyes to clear away the cobwebs. It's daytime now and I can feel the warm sunshine on my face and hands, except the area bound by rope.

Wait, rope?! I sit up and pull my hands into my lap, confirming my worst fears. My hands are tied, along with my feet, effectively immobilizing me. I look to my left and spot my jacket lying on a log, along with my spear. Other than that, I'm alone, lying on the forest floor in the cover of some bright green ferns. So somebody's holding me captive. It's obviously not the careers. They'd kill me on sight after what I pulled. But who else would spare my life if they found me unconscious?

I lift up my shirt and inspect my wound, surprised to find it wrapped in clean white gauze. The sting on my arm is curiously covered by a leaf and I can feel one on the back of my neck. I can't remove the one on my neck at all, but I can use my teeth to get the other one off my arm.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," says a soft voice behind me.

I freeze mid-bite and turn to see Rue standing behind me, watching me like I'm a caged lion.

"They're drawing out the venom from your stings," she says, pointing to my arm.

I can't believe this. I'm being held captive by a twelve-year-old…and twelve-year-old that tended my injuries instead of killing me like pretty much anyone else would've. But why? Why on earth would she protect me while I was vulnerable? I'm a huge threat to her. I'm a Career for fuck's sake.

"H-how long have I been out?" I ask. Probably only a few hours.

"Two days," Rue says.

My eyes widen at that. Two days?! I've been lying here, passed out on the ground and completely vulnerable, for two whole days?! Anyone could've come walking along, finished me off and that would've been it. I'd be dead and there'd be nobody left to help my family. I start taking deeper and deeper breaths in an attempt to calm myself, repeating the mantra in my head that I'm still alive.

"You alright?" Rue asks.

"Yeah…I'm okay," I manage weakly, gasping like a sick man would.

"Here. Drink this," she says, offering me a bottle of water. I should probably decline it, but I'm suddenly aware of how thirsty I am and I no longer care. I seize the bottle like a wild animal and begin gulping it down, stray water running down my filthy shirt and onto the ground. Rue looks like she's about to say something when someone lets out a pained moan somewhere beyond the ferns, grabbing the attention of us both.

I'm confused but Rue seems to understand. "Wait here," she says before disappearing through the brush.

Wait here? Tied up and completely vulnerable? Hell no. Rue may have moved my spear away but she apparently forgot to check my boot, where my fire-starter knife is still wedged. I scrunch myself up like an accordion and pull it free. Once it's out, I make quick work of my bonds and am free at last. Part of me wants to just grab my spear and take off before Thresh or whoever else she's in cahoots with shows up. But…another part of me wants to know what Rue's up to and why she'd bother saving me in the first place. I decide on the latter. Now that I'm free, she's absolutely no threat but I bring my spear anyway. If those mutts taught me anything it's that you never know when you're going to run into trouble.

I can't spot Rue among the undergrowth, even with my height advantage. I'm about to call out to her when another moan points me in the right direction. I follow it and am shocked at the sight. In a slight depression concealed by the ferns sits Rue…changing the leaf-bandages of an unconscious Katniss Everdeen.

Rue must sense my presence because she turns and her eyes widen at the sight of me free. Her gaze flickers back and forth from Katniss to me and I can see the internal war going on: save Katniss or save herself.

"H-how'd you get free?" she asks, inching back and starting to tremble.

"I had a knife on me," I answer vaguely.

Rue swallows and still looks terrified, which ultimately breaks me down.

"Relax. I'm not gonna hurt you," I say, dropping my spear and holding my empty hands up for emphasis, "You did me a big favor and I just want some information."

"Okay…" Rue says, watching me warily.

"What's all this about?" I say, motioning towards Katniss, who's still unconscious but still looks pained.

"She passed out from the tracker jacker venom. I'm just looking after her," Rue answers.

"I take it that's what you did for me as well," I say. Rue nods but it doesn't clarify anything. I get why someone from District Eleven would help Katniss, but why the hell would she help me? A District One Career?

"Why'd you help me out? I never did anything to help you," I say, a little uneasy at the fact that I owe someone else my life.

"I saw what you did for Peeta…how you took on the boy from Two. I also saw what you did for the girl from Eight. It seemed like you weren't a real Career and I…I just didn't want to see them find you," Rue says, obviously a little embarrassed at her actions.

I'm touched and grateful, but I don't really know what to say. After all, me and Rue don't really know each other. "Well…thank you," I say finally.

Katniss lets out another moan and Rue immediately drops to her side, feeling her forehead.

"More venom?" I ask.

Rue shakes her head. "No. She's got a nasty fever," she says.

"How many stings did she have?" I ask.

"Three," Rue answers tersely.

Only one more than I had…yet she's still unconscious.

"Shouldn't she be waking up soon? I had two and I'm up," I say.

"You're a lot bigger," observes Rue, "It takes way more venom to take you down than it does her."

Makes sense. I stand there awkwardly for a while, watching Rue tend to Katniss, ignoring the suspicious glances the District Eleven girl gives me every few minutes. Evidently, she was a lot more relaxed when I was tied up.

"Why are you still here?" Rue asks, finally turning to look at me, her gaze scanning me curiously.

"Uh…," I hesitate, unsure of how to proceed with this. I'm hanging around because I need to talk to Katniss…and because I feel some sort of obligation to help Rue out if I can.

"It's okay if you want to take off. This is the Hunger Games after all," Rue says flatly.

"No…uh, I know, but that's not what I want. I actually need to talk to Katniss," I say.

Rue arches an eyebrow at me. "Aside from the fact that that's probably gonna take a while, why do you need to talk to her?" she asks.

I rub the back of my neck, suddenly nervous in the presence of this kid. "Well…it's because we're allies," I say.

Now Rue looks dumbfounded. "What?" she asks.

I then tell Rue about our plan, me and Katniss'. I tell her about how we planned to find a way to take down the careers from the inside and how that plan got completely fucked when we were separated. I tell her about my pitiful attempts to locate Katniss and the fire that drove us all together.

"We ended up chasing her into that tree and…well I suppose you know what happened from there," I say, grimacing at the unpleasant memories of the tracker jacker attack.

"Dude, that is one crazy story," Rue says with a slight laugh.

"Yeah, I suppose it is," I say, returning the favor, "I guess it wasn't the best idea."

"Actually it isn't so terrible. Knocking the careers down a peg is a good way to even the odds," she says.

I chuckle. "Well, I'm afraid the bottom's fallen out of that plan. Something tells me I'm not welcome around the cornucopia anymore," I say.

"Yeah, your old allies don't seem like the forgiving types," Rue says, "You could still get back at 'em, though."

"I can still take down the other careers?" I snort incredulously. Clove and Lewis aren't dead and if Cato isn't, that's three careers I'd have to fight. Rue's obviously messing with me.

"Well, it depends," she says mildly.

"On what?" I ask.

Her small face breaks into a grin. "On whether or not you're looking for some new allies."

* * *

 **A/N: RIP The Original Career Alliance. Your dialogues were some of my absolute favorites and I'm sorry it had to end. Meanwhile, Marvel's passed the point of no return. He's betrayed the Careers, but has already found a new ally. As always, all reviews, follows and favorites are greatly appreciated.**


	14. With a Little Help from My Friends

Despite my recent…setbacks, thing's appear to be looking up. My stings are feeling a bit better and so is my sword wound. Some sponsor medicine sure would help, but I doubt I'll be receiving it anytime soon. No doubt Gloss is absolutely furious about me turning my back on the careers to throw in with a twelve-year-old girl and career-enemy number one. I can't say I regret it, though. I knew Katniss was a fighter and Rue's shown she is to. Hell, she's already outlasted a couple careers, a pretty impressive accomplishment for someone so small.

We're sitting beneath a large tree, not far from where Katniss is still lying unconscious. Her fever's broken and we're just waiting for her to wake up, which Rue is fairly confident will happen tomorrow. Once Katniss is up, we'll figure out what to do about my ex-allies. The sun's just gone down and a soft darkness has fallen over the arena, leaving everything quieter than it was before.

I notice Rue gnawing on something. "What's that?" I ask.

"Wild onion," she says, taking a bite without looking over. "Want one?"

I do. I haven't eaten anything since my last breakfast at the cornucopia and I'm feeling it. But Rue's done a lot for me already. The last thing I should be doing is eating her food.

"No thanks. I'm not hungry," I lie. As if in protest of that statement, my stomach rumbles loudly.

"That isn't what it sounds like. Here, just take one," she chuckles, putting the morsel in my hand, "And no, I will not take it back."

"Thanks," I say with a smile, knowing Rue isn't going to relent on the subject. I take a bite and find the tangy flavor better than I expected, but even better is the feeling of having something in the cavernous void of my stomach again. It's also nice to have an ally again. Reminds me of the conversations I had with Brooke. My smile falls at that. I remember that my friend is dead and that I didn't even think to save her. She had a bad leg and I ran like a coward. I forgot her and now she's dead, gone forever and already on her way back to District Four to be buried. I wonder how her family is taking it? Come to think of it, I never asked her much about her family. I wish I had. I wish I'd been a better friend to her. She deserved more.

It makes me wonder who else is dead. Glimmer for sure, but there could be others. I've missed two days of the action and any number of people could've kicked the bucket during that time.

"Rue?" I ask.

"Yeah?" she says between bites.

"Did anyone die while I was out?" I ask.

"The girls from One and Four," she says.

"I know. I saw them go down during the…tracker jacker attack," I say quietly, remembering Brooke disfigured from the stings, "Anyone else? Cato maybe?"

"Who's Cato?" she asks, looking up from her food.

Oh right. Most tributes aren't on a first-name basis with the careers. I keep forgetting to the others we're just cruel Capitol robots here to slaughter them.

"Cato's the boy from Two," I answer.

"Oh. Yeah he's still around. His leg's a little messed up though," Rue says, "Did you do that?"

"I wish," I chuckle, "A mutt got hold of him while he was chasing me. I was hoping it'd finish him off."

"We're not that lucky. Everyone else is still in the game," she says.

"Even Peeta?" I ask, remembering the nasty stab wound Cato gave him.

"His face hasn't appeared in the sky so he must be," Rue answers.

I whistle at that. "Wow. He was bleeding like a stuck pig last I saw," I say, more to myself than to Rue. I still don't know what to think about Peeta. I spent the last couple days hating him, but now it looks like everything I may have thought about him was wrong.

"Why'd you save him anyway?" Rue asks.

I pause, a little unsure of the answer myself. "I guess it was for Katniss more than for him. I didn't really think about it. I just did it. I guess since he was helping my ally, I just decided to help him in return," I say.

Rue nods in understanding and we're silent for a moment, just listening to the quiet sounds of the evening.

"Marvel," Rue says.

"Yeah?" I answer.

"What's District One like?" Rue asks.

The question gives me pause, mostly because I'm not really sure what Eleven is like. I'm also not quite sure what I'll have to explain and what Rue will already be familiar with.

"Well…we make luxury items for the Capital," I start, aware of how lame my words sound.

"Yeah I got that from the reapings," Rue says, smirking at my awkwardness.

I grin and continue. "It's nice and well-kept. Weather's kinda cold but not unbearable. We've got plenty of food and some pretty impressive buildings. We've also got the Academy," I say.

"That where they taught you to be a career?" Rue asks emotionlessly. I know it's absurd, but Rue's dark gaze suddenly makes me feel very small.

"Sorta. They teach you skills there. Y'know, swords, spears, knives. But they don't teach the mindset. That's just…there. It's been there for as long as I can remember and it infects everything. Every conversation people have somehow gets back to the games or whoever's showing the most promise at the Academy or how long it's been since we had a victor. You just can't get away from it," I say. I take in Rue's expression. She just looks thoughtful.

"You hate it," she says simply.

"Yeah...I kinda do," I say, running my hand through my hair, which is far-removed from the perfection it knew in the Capital. I'm sure my district hates me for these words, if they didn't already from my choices. Here I am, a citizen of District One, choosing the outer districts over my own people. I don't regret my choices, but I know they're not popular. The complete absence of sponsor gifts is a good indication of that.

There's silence for a moment. Rue decides not to press me further and I'm grateful for it. I've said too much already.

"What's District Eleven like?" I ask, curious but also eager to get off District One, "Aside from growing crops, I don't know a thing about it."

"The crops are most of it. When we're not in school, we're working in the fields and orchards. Even when we're in school, everything somehow relates to the crops," she says.

"They make kids work in the fields?" I ask, surprised because Panem is supposed to have child-labor laws. At least they do in District One.

"Oh yeah. Especially during harvest time. They cancel school and everyone has to work then," she says, "Even if it wasn't required, everyone would. We need the food."

Sounds like District Twelve. Once again it sounds like people in the outer districts are starving while the career districts and the Capitol all live in luxury. No wonder they hate us.

"What do they make you do?" I ask.

"I mostly work in the orchards," Rue says.

I can't help but smile at that. "So that's how you learned to scamper through the trees like a squirrel," I say, remembering Rue hopping from branch to branch in the darkness.

Rue shrugs. "It's one of the only things I learned back home that's come in handy here," she says.

Her statement reminds me how unfair the games really are. I learned an obscene amount of things back home that have been useful in the games whereas Rue's just been trying to scrape by with what she's got. Still, it's pretty impressive she's lasted this long. Most twelve-year-olds don't make it beyond the bloodbath.

My mind drifts back to the interviews and I suddenly remember a snippet of Rue's and I can't help but smile.

"Caesar was right, though," I say.

"What?" Rue asks.

"Caesar. He was right about you in the interviews, about not counting you out," I say.

Rue smiles. "I'm just doing the best I can. It's not easy with all the big threats out there," she says, motioning towards me.

"Things change," I say with a slight laugh, "The bad guys don't always win. Once we've got Katniss back in the fight, I've got a good feeling we can make their life a lot harder."

"I like the sound of that," Rue says mischievously.

The rest of the night passes uneventfully. Rue's much more pleasant company than Cato or Clove and I find myself more relaxed than I have been in days. Even when I was hanging out with Brooke and Lewis, there was always tension simmering just beneath the surface, whether it was about Peeta, Katniss or the fact that our alliance was effectively split into two factions. Rue tells me a little about her family and her younger siblings, making me even more sympathetic to her than I already was. Me, Katniss and her are all in the same situation. We're all watching out for our younger siblings and doing everything we can not to let them down; to come home. It makes me miss Striker more than ever. I hope he's happy and not too horrified that his big brother, the one who gave him piggy-back rides through the park back home, has killed three people. I suppose I won't know how they feel until I get out of here. One thing at a time.

The anthem played, but no faces appeared in the sky. Hopefully the audience will be entertained by the shifting alliances. If not, the gamemakers may try to move things along again themselves…an option I'm really hoping to avoid after the last incident.

Rue scurries up a tree to sleep. She encourages me to go, but I insist on sleeping on the ground, even if it is a little more dangerous. The undergrowth offers decent cover and I'm a quiet sleeper, which'll hopefully be enough. After Cato's fall, I have no particular desire to climb a tree anytime soon, which I don't think are career-friendly around here.

Actually, I suppose I'm no longer a career. I'm a traitor to the careers…and I don't care one bit.

* * *

I'm awoken by something smacking me in the forehead. I blink my green eyes, trying to adjust to the light. It looks like it's mid-morning, the sunlight sifting down through the tree branches above me and bathing me in its warmth. It's a comfortable warmth, something pleasant instead of the stifling heat on the second day of the games. It reminds of the spring days back home and how I'd take Striker to the park. That was about as close to nature as we could get in District One. It was out there, but the fence kept us separated from the natural world, safely cocooned in our layers of civilization. For a district crazy about the Hunger Games, we really don't prepare tributes for the wilderness very well.

My thoughts are scattered by an acorn hitting me in the head. I sit up rapidly and look around for my assailant, but see no one. Only the ferns and forest that surrounded me when I went to bed last night. The answer only comes as a giggle above my head. I look to see Rue perched on a branch above me like some small bird.

I'm about to say something when she pitches another acorn that hits me right between the eyes.

"And I thought those academies made you fast," Rue teases from the safety of her perch.

I rub the spot on my forehead and try not to think about how ridiculous she just made me look in front of the entire country.

"They do…but acorn-dodging wasn't really something we covered extensively," I chuckle.

I get up and stretch as Rue comes down from the tree. It's almost comical to have her standing next to me. She's barely up to my ribs.

"So what's the plan for today?" I ask.

"Katniss is still out, so no big moves…but we do need some food," she says.

"We out of wild onions?" I ask, fondly remembering the tangy vegetable from yesterday.

"We're out of everything," she says and I can't help but feel guilty. Rue would have more food if she hadn't shared with me yesterday. I owe her too much as is. She already saved my life, protected me, treated me and gave me food when I was at my most desperate. It's time I do something for her.

"Tell you what," I say, standing up and grabbing my spear, "I'll find breakfast for us."

Rue smiles. "We'll split up. I'll look for some more plants while you go hunting," she says.

I'm about to protest the idea of Rue being by herself when I remember that she's been on her own the last few days and has done great. She's actually done a lot better at the solo-game than me. Five minutes after splitting from my group I was on the forest floor hallucinating about ants.

"Alright…just keep your eyes open," I say.

"You too," she says before heading off through the underbrush, obviously a lot more familiar with this area of the woods than me. Then again, this whole place looks the same so if you're familiar with one part, you probably think you're familiar with all the others as well.

I grab my spear, check my fire-starter knife and head out, making sure to keep our meager campsite directly behind me. Without a compass, I can't afford to get turned around in here. I remember my training and step quietly, slowing my breathing and moving silently through the forest. For a while, it was hard to move this quietly. When I was learning at the Academy, I was too clumsy, unable to move my lanky legs with any grace. I tripped, stumbled and sputtered my way through our obstacle course. Years of training and the rest of my body catching up to my legs cured me through. Now, I move like a shadow, slipping quietly through the forest in search of my targets.

The forest comes alive around me. The silent maze of trees is now filled with a symphony of sounds, birds calling, the breeze flowing through the branches, animals scurrying through the underbrush. I crouch as low as I can and creep through the ferns and bushes along the ground, trying to stay as hidden as a tall person can. In mid-creep, I freeze. There's a rabbit, maybe fifteen feet away in a small, grassy clearing.

I can't use my spear on something that size. If I even managed to hit something so small, the spear head would destroy a good amount of the meat. I'll have to use my knife the best I can. If she wouldn't be eager to cut my balls off, I'd wish Clove was here. If there's anyone who could hit the rabbit with a knife, it's her.

I inch forward in the bush and draw my knife from my boot. The rabbit freezes, rising on its haunches to sniff the air. Its comically large ears shift in the breeze as its dark eyes search the area, possibly sensing danger but unable to find anything confirming it. I take a deep breath and remember Clove's throwing form. I stand up and hurl the knife. My aim's good, but not perfect. The blade plants itself in the rabbit's hind leg. It squeaks in pain and tries to scamper away on its good legs. I'm on it in a second and with a simple twist of its neck, the movement stops. Looks like I've found breakfast. If the gamemakers had a real sense of humor, they'd fire a cannon shot.

I clean my knife and hook the rabbit to my belt. This, along with whatever Rue finds, should make a pretty decent meal. We'll have to wait 'til dusk to cook the rabbit unless I want to run into my old pals again. My silent gait is forgotten as I stroll back towards camp. I arrive to find Rue still out. I'm hope she finds more wild onions. I'm ready for drink, but find that Rue's taken the water bottle with her. Oh well. I suppose she needs it more anyway.

I lean against a tree trunk and try to relax, as much as you can in an arena where the threat of death is constant. Hopefully the audience isn't getting bored. The only thing to die since the tracker jacker attack has been the rabbit attached to my belt. I'm sure our new alliance was mildly interesting, but if things don't pick up soon, the gamemakers may get creative again. Once Katniss wakes up, we'll have to figure out how to handle the careers.

Katniss. My thoughts fly back to where she's concealed. Rue said she'd wake up today. I feel that flicker of hope blooming in my chest and get up. I grab my spear and head over to where Katniss is, excited at the idea of my other ally being back in the game. I push the brush aside only to be greeted by the sight of the forest floor. Where is she? Am I in the wrong spot? No, I'm sure this is where Rue left her…or am I? Shit. What if Katniss woke up and already took off? What if a mutt came by or worse the careers? There was no cannon, but maybe they dragged her off to torture her.

I try to push the panic down that's rising in the spot hope was in a moment ago. My fingers are completely rigid around my spear and I can feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead. We should've left someone on guard. I certainly could have done it, but instead I went rabbit hunting and we may have lost our most valuable ally because of it.

My panicked train of thought is derailed by the sound of a twig snapping behind me. I spin around to see Katniss Everdeen standing there, her silver bow aiming one razor-sharp arrow directly at me. Her grey eyes, which once softened towards me, now look hard as stone.

"Don't move," she says, her voice colder than the harshest winter.

It's then that I know I'm in trouble.

* * *

 **A/N: Oh shit. Will these two ever get along or will they kill each other first? It's great to finally get Rue into the story. I wanted to give her more time from the beginning but I had to make it work within the story. As always, all reviews, follows and favorites are greatly appreciated.**


	15. Cry Wolf

There she is, only a stone's throw away. Katniss Everdeen, my ally who I've spent days trying to find and waiting to wake up. She's finally up…and it looks like she wants to kill me.

"Look, Katniss I-

"I said don't fucking move!" she hisses, pulling the bowstring further back for emphasis. Her face, once friendly, is contorted into a look of anger and distrust, like how she used to look at Cato. Except now that look is directed at me.

"Okay," I say, taking a step back and making sure to keep my voice even, "I'm not moving. I'm just standing here."

"Drop the spear," she says sternly, her fierce eyes not leaving my face for a second.

I calmly place my trusty spear on the ground, keeping my movements slow in an attempt not to set Katniss off. I don't know if it's the tracker jacker venom or my mere existence, but she looks volatile, like she could explode at any moment.

"Back up," she says, inching towards me. I obey until I'm about ten feet from my spear, missing its reassuring presence already.

"Turn around," she says. Reluctantly, I do so. I look out at the forest and wonder where Rue is. I don't think Katniss would harm her, but hopefully she's staying out of sight anyway.

"May I turn back around?" I ask after a few moments.

"Sure," she answers tersely. I turn and see her looking determined, still aiming her arrow at me and my spearing now leaning against a tree behind her.

"Good to see you awake, Katniss," I say, smiling the best I can while my life is being threatened.

"Sure it is," she spits, her eyes narrowing at me.

"I'm serious. I've been trying like hell to find you the past few days," I say, recalling my day long trek through the heat in search of her.

"Yeah, I noticed that. You and all your friends have been trying to find me," she says, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.

"That wasn't the plan…or at least not what I planned," I say, trying to find a way to explain all that's happened.

"Yeah? Well I've had about enough of plans, especially yours!" she snaps.

My plans? It wasn't exactly my fault I couldn't find her. She was hiding and it's a big fuckin' arena.

"You got something you want to say to me?" I ask, my anger rising to the surface.

"Other than you're a lying snake, not really. I should've known better. I should've known you were just trying to mess with my head. Tell me, was anything you said the truth or was it all just bullshit? Is your family actually poor? Is your dad actually missing his hand? Do you even have a crippled little brother or was that just another piece of your sob story?" she asks viciously, accusation after accusation stabbing into my most vulnerable points.

My eyes widen at the comment about Striker and I know my anger is super-charged now, like it suddenly went to the Academy and came out a more ferocious version of its former self, just begging to be unleashed on the unprepared.

"Listen and you listen well, don't you ever accuse me of making something like that up again! Everything I told you, I have lived with, my family has lived with and everything I have put myself through is to cope with that!" I fire back, taking an angry step towards her. Her eyes flash again and her fingers twitch. I can see the gears turning in her head and I know she's considering letting that arrow fly.

"You're lying," she says, her voice emotionless, like the countdown before the Games.

"So you think I made all that up just to get to you? You seem to be forgetting that I talked to you long before you scored an eleven in training. I thought you'd be a good ally before I ever knew you could handle a bow. Guess what, Katniss? Quiet tributes who spend all their time at the survival stations aren't worth the trouble to trick. Most people just assume they won't be too much of a threat in the arena and leave them be!" I retort.

"So why'd you bother talking to me if didn't think I could fight?" she asks tersely, although a little less venomously than before.

"Because I admired you!" I shout, "I saw what you did for your sister and I thought I'd found someone like me! I thought I'd found someone I could rely on! I wouldn't have risked my life to save your fucking boyfriend otherwise!"

Her anger completely fades and Katniss now just looks confused.

"What?" she asks.

"Yeah, that's right. After the tracker jackers, when Peeta got busted helping you escape, Cato was about to finish him off and I saved his life…and got this as a reward," I say, lifting my shirt up to show my bandaged sword wound.

Katniss softens a bit at the sight of my wound and purses her lips. I know that look. She's sizing me up, feeling the pull between her skepticism and my sincerity and trying to pick a side.

"We're not enemies, Katniss. We never have been," I say, my eyes flickering to the silver arrow still aimed at my forehead, "It doesn't have to be like this."

"How do I know I can trust you?" she asks, her internal struggle obvious.

"I'll vouch for him," says a familiar voice above us.

We both look up to see Rue dangling from the low branch of an enormous pine tree next to us. For once, Rue doesn't look like kind, wise girl she is. She looks nervous, eying Katniss' bow which is still pointing at me.

"Katniss, put it down," Rue says calmly, as if she was trying to soothe a child.

"What the hell are you doing?! Stay away! He'll probably kill you!" Katniss says harshly, her concern for the little girl obvious to anyone with functioning eyes and ears.

"No, he won't. He's my ally," Rue says, directing a smile at me that I return.

"What?!" Katniss asks incredulously.

Rue's smile gets wider. "And I was hoping I could convince you to join us."

* * *

After a lot of arguing and reassurances from Rue, Katniss finally lowered her arrow and accepted my presence…or at least stopped responding to it with threats of violence. It's a little depressing, having her keep her distance and watch me like some dangerous animal, especially after the conversations we had before the game. I miss those days. I miss their simplicity compared to now, where no one can be absolutely sure of trust until it's proven.

I feel a bit strange, like I'm some alien among a different species. These two, Katniss and Rue, are the outer-districts, hardy survivors. What am I? A career tribute from a district that has suckled the teat of the Capital for the past seventy-four years. Rue's a lot more forgiving than Katniss. She has no axe to grind and doesn't blame me for where I was born. Somehow, I think Katniss does, especially with the distrust brewing between us, although it's entirely one-sided. I don't doubt Katniss but she definitely doubts me. I try to tell myself that doesn't hurt? Why should it? It's logical. I'm a career, she's from District Twelve. Even after our conversations, the first time she saw me since the countdown was at the trunk of the tree we had her trapped in. I can understand how that'd make anyone wary. Unfortunately, logic has no impact on feeling. It does hurt…even though I know it's absurd.

Katniss goes hunting not long after Rue talks her down, taking the small girl with her. Ever since she returned my spear (which took even more convincing from Rue) she hasn't left me alone with the District Eleven tribute, probably assuming I'd decapitate her at the first opportunity. I try to focus on skinning my rabbit and gathering wood for the fire, hoping to keep my mind off the tension between me and Katniss. Dusk will be our only opportunity to cook without risking discovery and we'll have to be ready.

They return not long before dusk and I'm impressed by their haul. Katniss has two rabbits and some plump bird I've never seen before, all of which were killed much more cleanly than my rabbit. Rue gathered an impressive array of edible plants, including wild onions. I get to work skinning the rabbits while Katniss plucks the bird, chatting with Rue, who's arranging the wood for the fire, and casting suspicious glances at me. I try to keep my anger under control, reminding myself that this is the Hunger Games and suspicion is natural, especially on her part. I suppose I'm angrier about being called a liar than that. Her insinuation about Striker being a ploy was what really set me off. It's a good thing I maintained some control or I might've gotten an arrow through my forehead.

Dusk falls and we light the fire, skewering and roasting the bird and the rabbits. The delicious smell of meat fills the air and I'm suddenly aware of how hungry I am. Juices simmer and grease drips down onto the coals, disappearing with a hiss. We eat some of the plants while we wait and I try to practice some self-control. Food isn't going to last forever in the games, especially with three people. When the meat's finally done, we tear into it. A whole rabbit goes quickly, followed by the bird, although I notice Katniss is doing the same thing I'm doing: sending a lot of the food Rue's way.

"So what're we going to do about the careers?" I ask, gnawing on one of the rabbit bones.

Both Rue and Katniss look up from their hunks of rabbit, almost like they expect me to say something more.

"I was leaning towards killing them," Katniss says flatly, the look in her eyes saying that if I slip up in any way she won't hesitate to include me with "them".

"We can't just storm the Cornucopia and slit their throats. There's still three able-bodied careers there," I say.

"More like two," Rue says around a mouthful of rabbit.

"What?" Katniss asks.

"Cato's leg was kinda messed up last time I saw him," Rue says simply, "Marvel said a mutt got ahold of him."

"When'd you see him anyway?" I ask.

"Not long after the tracker jackers. I saw him bleeding and limping back towards the cornucopia," Rue says.

I wonder if Cato's still hurt. That mutt bite looked nasty but one sponsor gift could have him back in action.

"Any sign of him since then?" I ask.

"No. I haven't seen any of the careers since then. I think they're all holed up in the cornucopia, trying to recover," Rue says.

Katniss swears under her breath. "Hurt or not, we'll never take them down in there. That place is a fortress."

"So we gotta draw them out," I say.

"But then what? You said it yourself. If they fight together, which they probably will since they're down to three, we won't be able to take them," Katniss says.

"We don't know if Cato's healthy or not. That mutt looked like it did some serious damage," I say, rubbing my chin in contemplation. The only way I'd face the boy from District Two is if I had something to tip the odds in my favor.

"One nice sponsor gift could take care of everything. Then, we'll be facing Clove, the boy from Four and a reinvigorated Cato," Katniss says.

"Maybe we don't have to fight them," Rue says thoughtfully.

Okay, now I'm confused. If we aren't going to fight them, then what the hell are we going to do?

"What?" Katniss and I ask simultaneously.

Rue smirks and examines the hunk of meat in her small hand. "How do you think they'd fare without food?" she asks.

Now that's an idea. Everyone knows the careers can't forage for shit. The only person who wouldn't be doomed would be Lewis and that's only because of his fishing skills. Cato and Clove would be finished without that giant pile of food. The boy from Three probably wouldn't make it either. My eyes widen.

The boy from Three.

Cooper.

The nervous kid who constructed a goddamn minefield around that food pyramid.

"I think you just might be onto something," Katniss says, grinning for the first time in days.

"No, that won't work," I say, shaking my head.

"Why not?" Katniss asks.

Before I can answer, a howl rips through the growing shadows. We all turn into statues and I hear more howls, creeping across the darkness towards us. My hand goes to my spear and I see Katniss seizing her bow with surprising speed. Rue whips her head around, trying to spot the source. The sun is mostly down and only faint remnants of light remain. Katniss stops out our tiny fire and notches an arrow. Rue's hand goes limp and drops her piece of rabbit onto the forest floor.

"What was that?" Rue asks, her voice suddenly small and very afraid. For once she actually sounds like a twelve-year-old.

"Mutts," Katniss answers, her voice hard and focused.

More howls come, this time closer. My training comes back to me and I crouch into a combat stance, my spear pointing outwards toward the darkness. The light is fading with every second. Mutts. Darkness. The gamemakers are really showing us their love tonight.

I hear elastic being pulled back behind me and I notice Rue aiming her little slingshot in the direction of the howls.

"Rue, get up a tree right now!" I snap, imagining the poor girl being torn apart by a ferocious pack of Capital mutts.

"I can't leave you guys down here!" she fires back.

"We'll be up right behind you. Go!" Katniss snaps, pointing her loaded bow at our unseen enemies.

Rue hesitates for a moment, but another chorus of howls sends her scampering up the nearest pine like a squirrel. They're close now. The mutts. I can't see them but I can hear them, all around us, like a circle. I hear claws scraping over the dead leaves and dirt, heavy feral frothing and snarling in the cool air. The sounds carry, bouncing off the bark of the trees and tightening around us like a noose. I find myself pivoting with each new, terrible sound, desperately trying to see the danger. I can feel the terror rising in my chest, spreading into my limbs and making them shake. I try to quell it, but I'm just not used to this feeling. I'm not used to being prey.

Katniss swings her grey eyes back, making sure Rue's safe. At the sight of the small girl climbing into the heights of the tree, Katniss slings her bow over her shoulder and hurries to the trunk. Her hands grab the lowest branch and she begins to haul herself up, but stops when the sees me not following.

"What the fuck are you doing? C'mon!" she calls.

"You know those branches won't hold me!" I shout back, my eyes not leaving the nothing in front of me.

A growl cuts though the darkness and, for the first time, I see something. Three pairs of insidious eyes, glowing like embers in the darkness. They're spread out in front of me, leaving me nowhere to go but backwards.

"Are you insane!? You're gonna get killed!" Katniss screams back, sounding furious.

"Just get up there! I'll be alright!" I shout back as the first paw creeps out of the darkness, its razor sharp claws glistening in the slight moonlight.

The mutt steps right out of my nightmares and into the light. It looks like a wolf…a giant wolf, complete with a set of razor-sharp, ivory-white jaws. Its claws are the same. Its coat is dark as midnight, stretched over the thick, coiled muscles of its shoulders, down its sleek back and all the way to its twitching tail. What stands out the most is those eyes, the tiny orbs burning with hatred and staring right at me.

I swallow and hold the point of my spear out. For a moment, the mutt does nothing but stare, like I'm some complicated equation for it to decipher. How intelligent is it? From what I know, wolves aren't stupid, but it's not like they can understand human speech or come up with strategy. Then again, this isn't a wolf. This a mutt that the Capital could've done anything to, like creating it to specifically hate me.

The sick thing rises, ready to show me what it's got. It takes flight, leaping into the air toward me, jaws snapping and eyes still burning. I'm ready, though. I catch it on the point of my spear and the wind rushes out of the creature like a deflated balloon, even as its momentum carries it into me. Sprawled on the ground, I shove the writhing body off me and yank my spear out of the wine-red wound. The mutt doesn't have long, but it's his companions I'm worried about now. Like shadows moving in the darkness, I spot their outlines flanking me, moving to attack simultaneously. So I run.

I turn and sprint away from the campsite, using my long legs for all they're worth as I weave between the trees. For a moment, I worry the mutts are staying to trap Katniss and Rue. Then I hear a bone chilling howl, followed by the sounds panting and rough paws tearing across the forest floor in pursuit. My feet trip and stumble over errant roots and rocks, almost like the very forest is on the wolves' side, on the gamemakers' side, doing everything it can to deliver a gruesome death. My lungs burn and my legs ache and I hear the panting and snarling getting closer. I desperately put on another burst of speed and try to stay upright. Like with the fire, I know that if I fall down, I won't get up again.

As I run, a horrible realization dawns on me: I'm heading back towards the river, where I'll have no escape. I'll either have to face the mutts in the water or the mutts on the land. Did the wolves herd me this way on purpose? Could the gamemakers make them that smart or was it just a happy accident? Once I reach the river, they'll have their show and probably my life with it.

I burst from the trees and storm down the rocky bank, the dark waters of the river reflecting the full moon overhead. I freeze on the bank, wheezing and trying to decide. Do I risk it and swim? I can spot a few pairs of glowing red eyes cruising calmly out there, just waiting for me to jump into their domain. But I know what's waiting for me on land, too. I hear them closing in and, instead of jumping in, I turn to face them. I'm not hallucinating this time and I'd rather die fighting than swimming.

The wolves slow down and creep down the slope of the bank. Their feral snarls look like grins, almost like they're reveling in their success. I raise my spear and meet their gazes, which can only be described as bloodthirsty. One heads left and the other heads right, just like back at the campsite. I hope Striker isn't watching. The same goes for my parents.

Once again, there's a pause. Both mutts stare at me, looking for their opening. I swivel back and forth, hoping to catch the one that lunges on my spear again. The one on the left growls louder and lowers itself as its legs tense, ready to launch itself forward. I swing my spear in its direction and bend my knees, bracing for the impact. Then I feel the other mutt leaping onto my back.

Its razor sharp claws rip down my back as it drives me into the dirt. White hot bolts of pain shoot down my spine as the other mutt lets out a victorious howl, which almost sounds like laughter, wicked smug laughter. The kind of laugh I've heard from President Snow on television. If I scream, I don't hear it. I search desperately for my spear, trying to see where I lost it as the mutt sinks its jaws into my left shoulder. I feel my blood spurt out as the mutt begins to shake me, trying to tear the hunk of flesh from my body.

How did I end up here? Why did I end up here? I could've just stayed out of this. I could've just not volunteered. Life back home wouldn't have been perfect, but it would've been better than being ripped apart by wolves on live television. They must be laughing at me now, probably saying this is what I deserve for betraying the careers, a cautionary tale for everyone in the Academy about not carrying the water.

Wait a minute. That's not what I want to be. I'm here to win, not to die at the hands of a mutt less than a week into the games. I trained for this. I'm better than this. I'm numb to the pain as I remember the knife in my boot, my right boot. My eyes spot a thick rock, about the size of a grapefruit about a foot away. My right hand closes around it and I know I'm not going down without a fight.

I swing the rock, catching the mutt on the snout. I hear bones crack on contact as blood and few teeth fly loose. I feel the mutt's weight come off my body and I go for my knife. The mutt's dazed, squatting with its front paws still on my torso but hesitating to go for the kill. I don't. One strong swing slashes its throat completely open. The mutt crumbles like a house of cards as its blood mingles with mine in the dirt. I turn just in time to cover my throat as the other mutt launches into me and knocks me over again. It sinks its teeth into my forearm, desperately trying to get to my jugular. I drive my knife into its side and twist it, drawing a long howl from the mutt. It's not enough though and the mutt thrashes, its hind claws slashing into my thighs. The pain is nowhere specific. It's everywhere and I'm suddenly aware of how tired I am. It could be blood loss, but I'm not sure. I shake it off, ignoring the teeth in my left arm, and drive the knife in repeatedly.

This mutt is different. The stab wounds aren't slowing it down and those eyes look more furious than ever. It tears into me again and I feel the darkness closing in. It must be blood loss and I couldn't be more disappointed. I almost had it. I almost got out of another one…but not this time. My bloodied, shredded arm falls limply to my side as the mutt prepares to rip my throat out and end this. I don't shut my eyes. If I'm going to die, I'll at least show some courage.

The mutt is just opening its jaws when a silver arrow flies into one of its furious eyes. It sways for a second, like a tree that had its trunk chopped, before collapsing. The darkness is getting closer and closer and the last thing I see before it claims me is Katniss rushing down the bank toward me.

* * *

 **A/N: Wolves. Why does it have to be wolves? They would've been a solid finale...but I like them better right here. Now, our hero is down and victory, or even survival, are far from certain. And what about Katniss? Can she work with Marvel after everything or is the tension too great? As always, all reviews, follows and favorites are greatly appreciated.**


	16. Nevermore

I open my eyes and find myself lying on lime-green grass. It's a perfect day. There's no forest around me and the sky is blue and cloudless. Gentle waves of late afternoon sunshine bathe my skin, which is curiously absent of any of my previous wounds, and the breeze sweeps gently over the land. I can't be in the arena. It's too serene here, to peaceful. I sit up and almost flop back down at the sight of District One's public park. I'm back home.

I carefully stand up and notice my clothes are different. My shredded arena clothes have vanished and I'm now wearing a fine black suit. I look around for the usual people. Back home, the park bustled, full of potential tributes going for runs or sparring in their free time, retired citizens shooting the shit and people who simply liked the outdoors. On days like these, I used to take Striker here. I'd give him piggy-back rides and he'd plead with me to show him what I learned in training. I'd show him what I could and he'd do his best to imitate me despite his limitations. Strangely, the park is empty now. It was never empty on days like these. Only blizzards or thunderstorms kept people in and sometimes not even then. Tributes, desperate for an edge on the competition, would train through anything.

Everything is exactly the same. The same grass, the same well-trimmed oak trees dotting the pathway. Even the black metallic trash cans are the same. The only difference is everyone's gone. I sit back down on the grass and stare at my well-polished shoes, which I'm confident I've never owned. What the hell is going on? The last thing I remember was Katniss killing that mutt, but that doesn't explain why I'm back home. Did the games somehow end during the time I was unconscious? Did everybody else somehow die and I won the Hunger Games in my sleep? But then why am I here and not in a Capital hospital? What the hell happened to everyone?

I put my head in my hands, unable to make any sense of the situation and feeling nervous. Something about this doesn't feel right, like I'm not supposed to be here even though it looks like home. There's something off that I can't put my finger on. The sound of a _kraa_ in front of me breaks my musings. I look up to see a raven sitting in front of me on the grass, looking like polished black marble. Its eyes are so dark they almost blend into the feathers, which shimmer with flecks of indigo and dark blue in the sunlight. Something about its eyes indicate intelligence and I can't look away, like those dark black orbs are seeping into my consciousness and drawing me in.

The raven breaks eye contact and takes off, flying about fifteen feet before stopping on the grass and looking back at me expectantly.

 _Follow_

The raven doesn't say those words and I'm not sure if I heard them out loud or if I just heard it in my mind, like a thought. A thought that wasn't my own. I stand up slowly and begin to walk towards the raven, which takes off and begins to fly through the park and it flies quickly. I find myself breaking into a run just to keep up with it, passing many of my fondest memories as I run. The raven is taking me deeper, toward the center of the park where the Unification Fountain is, a giant ornate structure commemorating the end of the revolution and the ultimate victory of the Capital. The raven soars out of sight beneath a small grassy hill. Huffing and puffing, I stagger to the top and look down. The raven is perched on one of the fountain's statues, a heroic peacekeeper with his rifle shouldered and vigilant eyes staring off into the distance. The fountain is running as before, launching jets of water into the air in impressive arches. The lights have just come on as dusk creeps closer and I spot a solitary figure sitting on one of benches near the fountain.

A person! Oh thank god! Maybe they can tell me what the hell is going on. I walk down the hill, feeling the eyes of the raven on me as I do. Obviously this is where he wanted me to be, but I'm not sure why. The person, who I can now see is a girl, has her back to me. Something about that dark brown hair is familiar but I can't quite place it.

"Hello Marvel," she says without looking.

I freeze. I know that voice.

She turns to face me and I'm incapable of forming speech anymore. I know that face, that friendly smirk, those jade-green eyes. It's how I remembered her before the tracker jackers.

"Good to see you again," says Brooke.

I'm dazed, unable to move, think or do anything. I must be hallucinating again. Brooke is dead. I saw her body. I heard her cannon shot. She can't be here. She's back home in District Four, probably buried in a quiet graveyard.

"C'mon. Sit down. You look tired," Brooke says warmly, motioning to the space beside her on the bench.

I force myself to put one foot in front of the other and join her on the bench. I don't look at her, my gaze instead resting on my fidgeting hands.

"You look good," she says.

I turn towards her and take her in. Just like me, there's no trace of injury. No cuts, no bruises, no tracker jacker stings, not even a scratch on her. She's wearing a strapless black dress and looks like she did the night of the interviews, her face flawless.

"I could say the same thing to you," I answer, my mind drifting back to the tracker jacker attack, "A lot better than how I left you."

A sad smile comes onto her face. "Yeah, but it's not too hard to improve on that," she says with a derisive laugh.

"Is this really you?" I ask.

"Yeah, it's me," she says.

"But y-you're dead" I say incredulously.

"I know," she says like it's the most normal thing in the world.

An awful question comes to my mind. I don't want to ask because I don't want an answer, but I know I have to. I have to know.

"Am I dead?" I whisper.

She's quite for a moment, like there's some ambiguity to my question.

"Not quite," she says.

"Then what the hell is going on? Why am I here?" I snap.

If I'm not dead, then where am I and how am I talking to her?

"I can't tell you everything, but I can tell you that, although you're not dead, it may not stay that way," she says.

"What?" I ask, my voice quivering more than I'd like.

"Your fate is up to you. It's going to be decided here," she says.

"And where the fuck is here?" I ask.

"Don't you know your own home District?" she asks with a small laugh.

I let out a frustrated huff. "This isn't the real District One. This isn't my home," I say.

"Isn't everything exactly the same?" she asks.

"How would you know? You've never been to District One," I say.

"No, but I know what it looks like now. Since I…passed on, I know all kinds of things," she says.

"Like what?" I ask.

"Like I know your family is really concerned about you. They haven't left your living room, all huddled around that crappy TV of yours. Your father has his one good arm around your mother, who hasn't stopped crying since the wolves got ahold of you, and your brother can't even use his crutches without shaking right now," Brooke says, her eyes unblinking, almost like she's seeing it right in front of her.

I feel tears well up in my eyes as Brooke relays the information. This is really happening. There's no way Brooke could've known those things otherwise. My life is hanging in the balance and everyone I love is suffering because of it.

"You said my life is hanging in the balance, but that means I can survive, right?" I ask tentatively, gathering my composure.

"Yes, but you have to be careful," she says.

"Careful for what?" I ask.

"The man in black," she says.

"Who's the man in black?" I ask.

Brooke pauses before answering, measuring her words carefully. "He's the one who will decide your fate," she says.

"He decides if I live or die?" I ask.

Brooke shakes her head. "No. He wants you to die and he's going to try to kill you. You have to defeat him by morning if you want to live," Brooke says.

I shiver unexpectedly and look at the fountain. The raven is gone and the decorative purple lights have come on, bathing the fountain in their glow.

"He'll come after nightfall," Brooke says.

"What should I do?" I ask, fear burrowing deep into my chest just like it did when I saw the mutts' eyes glowing the darkness.

"Hurry to the Academy and arm yourself. From there, it's up to you," she says before getting up and beginning to walk away.

"Brooke?" I ask.

She turns back toward me. "Yeah?" she answers.

"If you're dead, why'd you come back here?" I ask.

Brooke smiles again, just like she did when we'd talk and mess with Lewis. "Because a friend needed my help," she says.

I smile back, but feel guilt drop into my stomach. Brooke's still being a friend to me, even after I forgot to save her.

"I'm sorry, Brooke," I say quietly, "I'm sorry I forgot to save you."

"It's okay. I never blamed you," she says with such sincerity that it makes my breath catch, "By the way, I'm glad you took my advice about allies."

At that, Brooke turns and strolls over the hill. I know I can't follow her. I'm not meant to. It's then that I notice the sun setting on the horizon, streaking the sky with shades of orange, pink and red. It's beautiful, but it means my time is limited and I've got to get moving.

The streets are deserted just like the park. All the familiar stores and houses now sit vacant as I run by. The sun is setting directly behind me, throwing the shadows after me as I make my way to the Academy. Brooke was right. Everything is exactly the same right down to the cracks in the sidewalk. I reach the doors of the Academy as the last rays of sunlight are slipping behind the horizon. I punch the security code in and hurry inside, slamming the door like a little kid hurrying to his bedroom at night.

Everything is just how it was the day I left. The racks of weapons, the obstacle course, the throwing ranges. Everything's the same. I almost expect to see Glimmer and all the others I trained with running around, but I don't. It's probably for the best Glimmer's ghost isn't around here. Something tells me she wouldn't be too excited about a reunion.

I track down some training clothes in the locker room and get out of my suit. I carefully select a spear from the rack and shove a few knives into my belt before heading to the door. I take a deep breath, forcing down my fear and dragging my courage forward. Quiet as a mouse, I open the door and step out. It's completely dark outside, minus the light from a few streetlamps and the moon. I clutch my spear and walk carefully, my eyes watching for the man in black. I never realized it before, maybe because I've never seen it empty, but District One is eerie at night. Our impressive buildings throw ominous shadows over the ground and catch every sound in the area, from the sound of my breathing to the scurrying of a rat.

I search the district, seconds turning to minutes and minutes turning to hours. Where is this guy? Brooke said he'd come for me at night, but I haven't seen anything. Shadows mix with other shadows and make everything indistinguishable, although I can't shake this gnawing feeling of being watched.

I stop at the edge of the public square, where we used to do our Reapings and viewings. Eighteen years. For eighteen years, I've been brought to this place to see ferocious kids throw themselves into the games, eager to bring glory to District One and themselves. Our motivations may've been different, but we were all similar. We were all unprepared for what we faced. Destroying dummies and lifting weights can't prepare you for the games. It can help and give you a fighting chance, but it doesn't prepare you. I suppose nothing could.

The moon's full overhead, casting its creepy light into the square. I can see my silhouette standing there, looking thinner and more vulnerable than I'd like. I'm about to get moving when I see it, a long black shadow stretching into the light with mine. I look up to see the man in black looking at me from across the square…at least I think it's looking at me. The man consists of a towering black shroud, lanky and swaying in the breeze like a kite. Its black robes hide its features, stretching all the way from the top of its head to the ground. I can't see its face either, hidden in the shadows of its hood. Still, I can feel its gaze on me, burning right through my body.

I ready my spear and glare back at the specter. No words are spoken. I'm not sure if it's even capable of speech, but I do know there's something awful about his presence, something I can feel in the air around him…something sinister. The square feels colder and looks darker with his mere presence. No errant sounds bounce off the buildings except the sound of my breathing.

Then, with some unspoken signal, we both move, charging toward each other like a pair of enraged bulls. I drive my spear forward, where I assume the specter's heart would be, only to hit air. My next two thrusts have the same result as my adversary slithers around each blow with unnaturally fluid grace. It waits until I miss again to make its move, driving a rapid fist into my stomach and another into my temple. The air's knocked out of me and my vision clouds. They felt like Cato's punches only more powerful. I'm suddenly seized by my shoulders and hurled across the square, crashing into the side of a shop.

My back aches and I try to refocus my vision as the man in black glides across the ground toward me. My spear is back in the middle of the square, behind the phantom. I attempt to dive by it, only to be caught in its iron grasp. A series of thunderous blows to my head dulls my senses. Blood drips down my face from what's probably a broken nose, long since gone numb. The specter hurls me onto the pavement and cracks my ribs with a vicious kick from beneath its robe. I begin to cough up blood as I try to prop myself up. Another kick sends me back to the ground, groaning in agony.

I feel myself get flipped onto my back as the specter drapes itself over me like a black curtain. Those rigid, immovable hands wrap around my throat and begin to squeeze. I claw at them, desperately trying to pry them off as I feel my eyes bulging and my tongue swelling. My head swims and I feel every cell in my brain screaming desperately for oxygen. The shadows close in around me, mixing with the robe of the man in black until it all becomes one. Somewhere I hear laughter. Is this death? This can't be it. I can't die. I promised I wouldn't.

I blink my eyes, trying to refocus on the grainy picture in front of me and remembering the promise I made to my brother. The man in black isn't clearly visible, shifting like the image on a bad TV. Still, I see the shroud and I know what to do. I yank one of the knives from my belt and drive it into the phantom's hands. It releases my throat immediately and I take a delicious gulp of air. For the first time, it makes a sound, a bellow of pain. I swing my leg up and smash my boot into its face, knocking it off me. I rise up, feeling stronger than I ever have been. The specter rights itself and delivers another punch, but this time I'm faster. I catch its hand mid-strike and delivering a bone-rattling punch of my own across the specter's face. It stumbles back and I hit it again and again and again. It makes a desperate swing that I slide under, driving my knife into its side. It lets out another furious, gasping scream of pain as it stumbles to the ground.

I pick my spear up off the ground as the man in black attempts to stand up and fight back. Gone are its gliding movements and fluid grace. It stumbles and hobbles now, unable to stay upright permanently and gasping in pain. It takes one more pathetic swing at me as I near it and I respond by ramming the butt of my spear into its temple. Strangely, my pain is completely gone now and I feel invincible, all-powerful. That last swing should've done a number on my ribs but I feel nothing. In fact, I actually feel better than before.

The specter lies on the ground, robes sprawled out and shape still indistinguishable. The awful atmosphere it possessed is gone now and I know dawn is coming. With a smile and without another thought, I drive my spear into its chest. No blood comes but it lets out an infernal, enraged scream as its very being seems to crack like fractured glass, light seeping out through the gaps. The screaming gets louder and louder as the light bursts out, overtaking all the darkness and sweeping it all away in a blinding flash.

I blink my eyes lazily and open them. They focus on Rue's smiling face looking down on me. We're in the forest, in the arena. I'm back.

"Katniss! He's awake!" Rue yells excitedly as my face stretches into a smile.

I'm back.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm going to be frank, I would completely understand if some of you hated this chapter. It's abstract, weird and I was extremely close to cutting it. However, I ultimately decided that I liked the differences and how it allowed Marvel to say goodbye to Brooke, so I left it in. To those of you wondering if all that was a dream, purgatory, a metaphoric struggle with death or something else entirely, I would just respond the same way Quentin Tarantino did when people asked him what was in the case in Pulp Fiction: It's whatever you want it to be.**


	17. Better Angels

I haul myself into a sitting position, feeling a lot less powerful now that I'm out of my…dream? Rue immediately embraces me in a hug, but I wince as she wraps her tiny hand around my shoulder.

"Sorry," she says, jumping back, but still looking excited.

"It's alright," I say as I pull my shirt aside to examine my shoulder. It's wrapped up like some kind of present, but small red splotches of blood are still visible. My left arm, the same arm the mutt mangled, is also wrapped in clean white bandages and on its way to healing. I can feel more on my back and legs, where the mutt's claws shredded my flesh. I feel like a torn up suit in desperate need of a tailor.

I try to stand, but my legs quickly collapse under me, shaking and feeble. I manage to catch myself on a tree as Rue rushes over to help me down. I hate feeling this weak.

"Easy," Rue says, "We can't have you passing out on us again. It was hard enough carrying you back from the river. Y'know you're a lot heavier than you look."

The river. The mutts. Katniss. My mind whirls back to that dark night, full of howls and snapping jaws. How long has it been?

"How long was I out?" I ask.

"Only a day," Rue says.

"Jesus," I mutter.

"What?" Rue asks with childlike curiosity.

"Nothing. It's just at this rate I'll spend most of the games unconscious," I say with a small chuckle.

"Sounds like a good way to spend it if you ask me," says a familiar voice behind me.

I turn to see Katniss leaning against one of the pine trunks, her bow and quiver slung over her shoulder and an expertly-killed squirrel dangling from her belt. Her dark hair is pulled back in its usual braid and, strangely enough, there's actually a small smile on her face.

"How're you feeling?" Katniss asks.

"I don't know the polite word for it," I chuckle, "But I suppose not being dead is still a win."

"Well, that's a win we almost didn't have," Katniss says back, taking a seat beside me.

"Anyone die while I was out?" I ask.

"Aside from a few stupid squirrels, no," Katniss answers.

"What happened…after I passed out?" I ask.

"We carried you back, but you'd lost a lot of blood. We weren't sure if you were gonna make it," Rue says, jumping into the conversation with her usual eagerness.

"Your sponsors saved you. They sent bandages and everything else we needed to patch you up," Katniss says.

You gotta be kidding me. Gloss actually helped me out and allowed some gifts to come my way? I haven't received so much as a cracker for the entire games thanks to him and then he saves me in my most desperate hour. Well, actually Katniss and Rue saved me but the supplies were unquestionably valuable.

I start laughing at the thought of Gloss holding his nose and sending me supplies. There's no way he's pleased with me for double-crossing the careers and aligning with the outer districts, but with Glimmer dead I'm the last hope for District One to have a victor this year. If he let me die, our dry streak would continue and his mentoring stats would continue to suffer. Despite our past success, Gloss was our last victor and that was eleven years ago.

"Something funny?" Katniss asks.

"Just imagining Gloss biting the bullet and helping me out. I don't think my decision to work with you guys instead of the careers is sitting particularly well with him," I chuckle.

Katniss and Rue both chuckle at that. I wish these moments didn't have to end. These moments are pleasant. Hell, they're better than pleasant. I'm not dead and I've got everything I need right now. I've got my life, my spear, my knife and my friends. That's a lot more than most people get anywhere in Panem and I've got it in the Hunger Games, of all places.

"So…what're we going to do about my old friends?" I ask.

They stop chuckling immediately.

"We were actually waiting to ask you about that," Katniss says flatly.

My mind sifts back through the memories, trying to recall what information she could want.

"Right before the mutts showed up, we were talking about the careers. Rue suggested we destroy their food supply, but you said that wouldn't work," Katniss says, her piercing grey eyes studying my face like the answer was written on my forehead.

I remember now. The food. The mountain of food surrounded by a deadly minefield curtesy of Cooper.

"Yeah, it won't work," I say demurely.

"Why not?" Rue asks.

"Mines," I answer tersely.

"Mines?" Katniss asks, eyebrows furrowing.

"Yeah, there's a minefield surrounding the food supply," I say.

Katniss' eyes, usually narrowed in suspicion, completely widen at that. Rue's do the same and I'm sure her jaw would've fallen off if it wasn't attached.

"Where'd they get mines?" Rue asks incredulously.

"The tribute platforms, the same ones that would blow us up if we got off before the countdown. We dug 'em up, rearmed 'em and buried 'em around the food to protect it," I answer.

"Who the hell did that?" Katniss asks.

I try to suppress a smirk. Obviously Katniss doesn't have a high estimate for the collective career IQ.

"Glimmer did," I lie.

"What?!" Katniss asks, sounding like I just told her day was night.

"I'm just fucking with you," I say through my laughter, "It was Cooper."

"Who's Cooper?" Katniss asks, disbelief replaced with confusion.

"The boy from Three," Rue answers before I can.

"He joined us not long after Peeta. In exchange for protection, he rearmed the mines and secured our food supply," I say.

"How'd you guys get food if there's a minefield around it?" Katniss asks, already looking like she's trying to come up with a plan.

"Cooper had us leave a path through the minefield up to the pile, but…" I trail off, trying to remember how the damn thing was laid out.

"Can't you remember?" Katniss asks, frustration seeping into her voice.

"Not completely and it's not the type of thing I'm willing to guess on," I snap back, "I've had a lot of shit going on lately. I can't remember everything."

There's silence for a moment. We all know we've gotta find a way to get at the careers, but the right method is proving elusive.

"I still think taking their supplies is the best way to hurt them…short of actually hurting them," Katniss says, removing a gleaming arrow from her quiver and examining it like a work of art.

"Well…yeah. It's definitely where they're weakest, but unless you've learned to fly, I'm telling you we can't get to the damn pile," I say back, groaning in frustration and feeling fatigue from my injuries. I can feel the blood pounding in my aching head and I know I'm not one hundred percent yet.

"We may not have to get close to it," Rue says, a wry smile creeping onto her delicate features.

I know that look. She's got an idea.

"It's not like we have to throw the food in the lake…or burn it…or eat it ourselves. It just needs to be gone and the careers just need to be hungry," Rue says with a mischievous look on her face, the same look she wore when she stole Cato's knife during training.

"What're you thinking?" I ask, feeling my features stretching into a grin.

"You know what the great thing is about mines?" Rue asks.

I see Katniss arch her eyebrow, just as intrigued as I am.

"They blow up," Rue finishes, flashing a porcelain-white grin that quickly spreads around our little group.

* * *

The next day passes quietly. Nobody dies except for whatever creatures are foolish enough to wander in Katniss' path. I mostly rest, hidden beneath the ferns, only venturing out to…relieve myself. I need to regain my strength and give my wounds some time to heal, especially after all the blood I lost during the mutt attack. Rue's idea, while good will require me to be at one hundred percent. I can't believe I didn't see it. It was right there the whole time, sitting right under my nose and I just didn't see it. The careers practically gift-wrapped a way to destroy their precious supplies. Thanks to Cooper, there's two dozen mines sitting directly beneath all those goodies, just waiting to be set off by somebody with a bone to pick.

I'm almost giddy at the thought. Cato and Clove won't last too long without food. I can't help but smile as I remember their sneers at the survival stations during training, like the idea of anything going wrong and requiring such skills in the arena was too ridiculous to even consider. I can't wait to see the look on their faces when there's nothing left but a smoldering crater. Rue's plan is still in development but the concept itself is flawless: Draw the careers away from the cornucopia and find a way to set off the mines without blowing ourselves up. Easy enough.

I wonder how Cooper will fare without the supplies? Probably not too well. I don't have any animosity for the kid and I hope he doesn't suffer too much, but I doubt he's much of a survivalist. He looked pretty weak when he showed up to pitch his idea. Now Lewis is a different story. With his fishing skills, he might actually make it without the supplies. I feel a twinge of sympathy for the fifteen-year-old, recalling the moments of genuine fun I had with him and Brooke.

Brooke.

Poor Lewis. If her death hurt me, I can't imagine how he must've felt, losing not only his district partner but also a friend so close she might as well have been his sister. I hope the games haven't stolen everything from him yet. We're all too young for this, but kids like him, Rue and Ava definitely are. The games take a lot from everyone, but it hits the young tributes the hardest. They're the ones who usually breakdown, either in tears or psychotic fits of violence. There's exceptions of course, but the older ones tend to be more resilient…like Katniss.

My oldest ally spends most of her time out in the woods, either hunting or patrolling. Sometimes accompanied by Rue, sometimes not. I wonder if District Twelve has woods? I know Seven does, but Katniss is way too good a hunter for this to be her first time in this environment. Thing is, hunting on Capitol land anywhere is strictly prohibited. Katniss just might be more of a rebel than anyone realizes. I'd probably never be able to pry a straight answer out of her, especially while we're on television, but the shoe definitely seems to fit.

Rue spends most of her time moving around the trees like a squirrel, occasionally gathering food, but mostly scouting for any sign of other tributes. We can't go after the careers until I'm back in action, but that doesn't mean everyone else is taking a break. Rue stays vigilant, eyes peeled for any signs of danger in the quiet forest. Hopefully the audience was sufficiently entertained by seeing me turned into a chew toy and won't demand that the gamemakers spice things up anytime soon. I can't imagine where those bastards would go from there and I don't want to know.

It's mid-morning by the time I finally feel ready to move again. Rue's off in the trees again and I haven't seen Katniss all morning. I gingerly get to my feet and find my legs surprisingly stable. They may not be what they were back in training, but all things considered, they feel pretty damn good. I pick up my spear with my right arm, which was fortunately undamaged from the mutts. I've been sedentary way too long for my tastes and I feel the woods calling, begging me to explore. I leave my pack hidden beneath some foliage and begin my trek. I can't go too far, but I'm done doing nothing and once Katniss and Rue get back, the real work begins.

The woods look the same as before, but the weather's much more pleasant. A cool breeze flows between the trees like water and washes over me. It appears the gamemakers have shown some mercy since the scorching days they subjected us to during the first few days. I wonder how long I've been in here? I try to remember the days I've been through, but the time I've spent unconscious leaves everything a bit muddled. I'd estimate around a week, give or take a few days. A week and over half the tributes have already bought it. Who's left right now? Let's see, me, Katniss and Rue. Three. Cato, Clove, Lewis and Cooper. Seven. Thresh, the sly-looking ginger girl and Peeta, who's somehow still clinging onto life despite Cato damn near cutting his leg off, make ten. Oh, and the boy with the bad foot makes eleven. Eleven tributes left, only one leaves the arena alive.

That thought makes me stop walking and lean against a trunk. Ten tributes gotta go for me to see Striker again, along with my parents and my home. I know that includes Katniss and Rue, but I find myself hesitating. I've always known it would come to this, but as it gets closer to the end, it becomes much more real. The smart thing, the thing anyone trying to win would do, would be to take Katniss out the second after we destroy those supplies. Or maybe sooner. She's a huge threat and the longer she's around, the risk of me getting a silver arrow in my forehead only increases. And yet…I don't think I could do it.

I know I couldn't kill Rue. She's too young, too much like Striker for me to ever go through with something that heinous. But Katniss is a bit different. She's a fierce warrior, practically made of determination and probably willing to do anything to see her family again, including killing me. So why do I feel this hesitation? This weakness? We've been allies and we may have bonded before the games and we may have even saved each other, but so what? I've seen people who were best friends before the games tear each other apart in the arena. And yet I don't think I could kill Katniss…and it terrifies me. If I can't, my only hope of going home in anything other than a coffin is for someone else to do it for me. But I feel this sick feeling rising in me like bile, this awareness that if Katniss ever was being attacked, I'd back her up instead of letting her get taken out.

I groan and start bashing my forehead into the tree, trying to numb these thoughts bent on my destruction.

"God…Damn…It!" I say between hits, feeling the bark pounding into my forehead like a hammer.

"What the hell are you doing?" questions a familiar voice.

That fucking voice. The source of all my misery right now.

I turn to see Katniss standing there. The look of genuine concern on her face knocks all the anger and frustration out of me.

"What're you doing up? You're supposed to be resting," she says, her beautiful grey eyes landing on my red forehead.

"I felt better…thought I'd go for a walk," I murmur, my eyes drifting lazily around the woods.

"You sure you're feeling okay? Not to be rude, but you look terrible," Katniss says without even the slightest hint of mockery.

The anguish of my realization must still be on my face. I can't kill her and am increasingly likely to die at her hand for all of Panem to see. Why am I so fucking weak? Why did I do this if I'd falter over some misplaced sentiment?

"I…I think I'm just confused," I say wearily.

"What's wrong?" she asks, stepping to my side and looking up at me.

Katniss is pretty tall but I've still got about half a foot on her. I hesitate for a moment, looking down into her grey eyes that now look like pristine silver up close, like something a District One jeweler would craft. My gaze drifts down her lovely features to her pink lips, pursed in concern and waiting for an answer. My tongue doesn't work, even as I search for words. The one thing I'm keenly aware of is this strange desire to pull Katniss into my arms and kiss her.

"I…" I start, not even sure what I want to say.

"Yeah?" she asks quietly, almost whispering as her eyes search my face for the truth.

I clamp up, feeling our close proximity with every fiber of my being. The air itself seems to crackle with something powerful, like an electric current…or a gas leak that could be set off with one spark. It feels more dangerous than anything else in the games. I shake it off and step back.

"It's nothing," I say, "We should probably head back."

Katniss almost look disappointed, like she's knows it's not nothing and wants to help. I don't look back at her as I walk. If I do, I know I'll feel all those strange feelings stir again and I really don't need that. I keep my eyes focused on other things. Simple things, like the pine needles scattered over the ground or the sunlight sifting between the branches. The forest, for all its danger, is simple and that's really what I need right now.

I hear footsteps. I assume it's just Katniss behind me, but then I notice a difference in pitch. They're faster and somehow spastic, like something's impeding them and Katniss hardly makes a sound when she walks anyway. Katniss hears it to and stops rigidly beside me. When I hear the first sounds of panting and angry voices, I know what it means: tributes.

Without thinking, I grab Katniss and pull her into a thick clump of bushes. For a moment she tries to squirm out of my grasp, like a cat. She pauses when the hears the sounds getting closer and peers out through the leaves. Seconds later, the boy from Ten comes into view, panicked, sweating and stumbling over his bad foot. He's running, or hobbling actually, from something, something dangerous he desperately needs to escape. A knife whizzes into his thigh like a bullet a second later and he goes down, screaming in anguish. He tries to haul himself to his feet when another zips into his kneecap. As the poor boy writhes on the ground, only one thought crosses my mind. There's only one person in the arena who can throw like that.

She comes into view a moment later, grinning wickedly and circling the injured boy like a prowling lioness. Clove, sting free and more lethal than ever.

"Don't feel too bad," she taunts before delivering a bone-cracking kick into the boy's ribs that leaves him wheezing, "You did pretty well for gimp. I didn't think you'd last beyond the bloodbath."

"This worthless piece of crippled shit isn't what we're after, Clove," sneers another voice I know well. A voice colder and more venomous than I have ever heard it.

Lewis stomps into view behind Clove, clutching his spear and scowling as he approaches his ally.

"Think maybe he's seen her?" Clove suggests, casting a haughty glance at the injured boy as he feebly tries to crawl away.

"Only one way to find out," Lewis says as he storms over to the boy from Ten. I have to suppress my desire to retch as he stomps on the boy's extended tibia, breaking it with a sickening crack and sending jagged shards of bloody bone through the fabric of the boy's pants. I feel Katniss cringe in my arms while Clove lets out a bark of laughter.

The boy from Ten screams in agony as Lewis pounces on him, rolling him over and seizing him by his shirt collar. The boy looks up, meeting Lewis' furious gaze. Before he can scream again, Lewis delivers a vicious punch to the boy's face, shattering his nose. He quakes in terror as blood streams down his face, remaining features contorted in agony and fear.

"Have you seen any sign of the bitch on fire?" Lewis asks.

"The…the what?" the boys asks, confusion and terror mixing as one.

Lewis stomps on his injured leg again as a response, sending the poor boy writhing in fresh waves of pain. I can feel Katniss seething in my grasp, muscles coiled and ready to lash out. I only tighten my grip. We can't give ourselves away, not while there's two of them and I'm still injured. No matter how much everything decent in me says to do something, I can't.

"The bitch on fire! The girl from Twelve! The cunt that killed my District partner!" Lewis spits, towering over the injured boy.

"No! I-I haven't seen her since the bloodbath!" answers the panicked tribute, still trying to inch away from Lewis.

"You sure you're not working with her?!" Lewis thunders, taking a step towards the boy, "I've been fooled before."

"No! No! No! I'm not with her! I swear! I've just been by m-myself the whole time…just trying to avoid trouble!" stammers the desperate boy.

I see Lewis' jaw clench while he examines the boy like some type of specimen.

"I believe you," he says, picking his spear up off the ground.

The boy from Ten sighs in relief before wincing in pain again.

"But it's not going to save you," Lewis says emotionlessly before driving his spear into the boy's abdomen.

Of all his screams, those are probably the worst. Clove and Lewis go to work immediately, cutting off toes, fingers, ears and whatever else catches their attention, laughing like a pair of giddy clowns as they go. They gut him like a fish, slowly, while he's still alive, weeping and begging for mercy. I shut my eyes and draw inward, desperately wishing I could stop hearing the sounds of what they're doing. I wish I could stop hearing every slash, every laugh, every scream and every whimper. I would give anything to be deaf right now.

I don't know how long they work. It feels like hours and I don't look up again until I hear a cannon shot. Lewis and Clove both stand over the bloody, brutalized corpse, sweaty and stained themselves. They pick up their weapons and leave as quickly as they came, probably off to find more victims.

I let Katniss out of my grasp who immediately bends over and vomits onto the forest floor. I lean against the tree and try not to pass out, my vision hazy and my body shaking with every breath. Only one irrefutable truth pushes through my foggy, panicked mind: Lewis has changed.

* * *

I sit beneath one of the pine trees hours later. Night has fallen and Rue's gone to bed, hopefully sleeping in relative peace. She was so panicked when me and Katniss got back, having heard the boy from Ten's cannon and assumed it was one of us. We lied and said we hadn't seen him. Rue doesn't need to know what we saw. She doesn't need to know why neither of us could look up when his face appeared in the sky or why neither of us had any interest in eating meat tonight. I know I won't be sleeping tonight. I keep hearing those fucking screams and cracks echoing in my head and whenever I'm not focused on something, I can almost see it happening again.

Instead, I focus on the sky, the different shades of blue and black mixing together with the clouds. I try counting the stars. I lose count many times and I don't care. I get to start over and it keeps me from having to find a new distraction.

I'm at eighty-three when I hear soft footsteps. My hand instantly goes for my spear.

"Hey," says Katniss quietly.

I immediately relax, feeling the tension roll out of my shoulders. My hands leave my spear and go back to my lap.

"Hey," I answer, "Can't sleep?"

Katniss shakes her head and sits beside me. Fortunately, the trunk is big enough for two to lean on it.

"Me neither," I mutter, shivering at my memories. It's no secret why we're both having this problem.

"How'd you ever work with them?" Katniss asks quietly. "You're different. You're human, but…they're something else. Something worse."

I sit quietly for a moment. How do I explain that they weren't all evil after what we just saw? How do I make her see Brooke's decency and friendship when she's gone? How do I make her see that Lewis wasn't always what he is now when she never knew him before?

"The games change people. Lewis wasn't always like that," I finally say.

"The boy from Four?" Katniss asks.

I nod in response.

"What was he like?" she asks.

I look out at the stars, recalling better days. Days that had some friendly conversations and decent meals, when the only things being torn apart were dummies.

"He was nervous, kind of goofy. He was still a good kid. He certainly never…got into it like that," I say.

"What changed?" Katniss asks, her voice soft and smooth as a note of music.

"Brooke died," I say, trying to keep my voice even.

"His district partner," Katniss says, probably recalling the angry words Lewis hurled at the boy from Ten.

"Yeah. They'd been friends a long time. They acted like fucking siblings, always teasing each other and sticking together no matter what. I think when she died, Lewis lost himself…or at least any connection to who he was," I say sadly.

Katniss doesn't say anything and she doesn't need to. I hear owls off in the night, their who-o-o calls drifting over the breeze that rustles through the forest.

"Brooke was...Brooke was my friend. She was never afraid to stick up for Lewis, even if it pissed off Cato and Clove. She wasn't bloodthirsty and she always had good advice. Y'know, she told me something that I haven't been able to get out of my head," I continue.

"What?" Katniss asks.

"It was about allies. It was the first day of the games, not long after the Bloodbath. I hadn't been able to find you and I already didn't trust most of the careers. Lewis and Brooke were busy watching each other's backs and I was feeling pretty fucking alone. And Brooke just laid it out perfectly, why allies are important. I was wondering if they made you too vulnerable, but she told me that the right allies don't make you weaker. They give you somebody you can depend on…somebody who makes you stronger," I say as I look into Katniss' shimmering silver eyes, making it obvious who I'm talking about. A soft smile graces her features and my mind drifts back to moonlit conversations like this only a week ago, when things were simpler. Before all the tension and misunderstanding.

"She sounds like a good friend," Katniss says simply.

"She was. She really was," I answer.

"I'm sorry…about the tracker jackers, I mean," Katniss says, her voice laced with a bit of guilt.

I sigh. I don't blame Katniss. She had no choice. I just wish Brooke hadn't been caught in the cross-fire.

"It's alright. You weren't trying to kill Brooke. You were just trying to survive. Anyone in your situation would've done the same thing," I say earnestly.

The look of relief on Katniss' face is obvious and it stirs something in me.

"I never thanked you for saving my life…when the mutts were after me. I'm sorry," I say.

Katniss lets out a soft chuckle. "It was the least I could do after you led them away from us."

I chuckle a bit myself as I look at my left arm, which is still bandaged up. In the moonlight, the dirty bandages are white as alabaster.

"I'm sorry for the way I treated you when we reconnected. I treated you like you were a monster, just looking for the first opportunity to kill me. I didn't know what you'd been through…and I didn't know what you were willing to go through for me and Rue," Katniss says, her gaze on her hands fidgeting in her lap.

I can feel myself softening at the sincerity of her words and I suddenly know why I can't kill her, why I'll never be able to kill her. I don't like this idea of her feeling guilty and I instinctively reach over, covering her small hands with one of mine. They stop fidgeting as Katniss looks up and meets my gaze, gleaming silver eyes tender and curious all at the same time.

"You have nothing to feel guilty about," I say softly.

I don't know what it is. Maybe it's the soft rays of moonlight or our gentle words or the stress we've been under. Some inexplicable force pulls us together like a magnet and I feel myself leaning in, ignoring all the training screaming at me to control myself. It's only when I feel our lips gently meet that everything clears away. I feel her arms wrap around my neck as my hands go to her hips, pulling her closer. Everything disappears except the forest, the shimmering stars and the beautiful girl kissing me back right now and for the first time since I entered the arena…I feel at peace.

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, this is by far my favorite chapter and I'm so glad to get it out there. Will the Karvel ship float? Can anything save Lewis from himself? Where the hell is Peeta? So many questions still left. Unfortunately, the updates are probably going to slow down now that I'm back in college, but fear not. Nothing short of death will stop me from finishing this story.**


	18. Philosophy

The morning sunlight falls on me softly as I slither towards the cornucopia, flowing like water between the endless trees dotting the arena. The pine needles have muffled my footsteps and made me silent, perfect for this little mission. According to Rue, we need to gather intel, observe the careers and see if anything in their routine suggests a weakness before we make our move. It's a solid idea, although the separation makes me nervous. It's necessary. The careers are more likely to spot us if we're all clumped together at the tree-line. Separation is far better for stealth, making us a lot less likely to be discovered…but if we are discovered, we've split our forces and left ourselves vulnerable.

I shake the fears off and whistle the simple tune Rue taught Katniss and I before we separated. The mockingjays pick it up and carry it through the trees in search of my allies. The responding tune comes back quickly and I let out a sigh of relief. I shouldn't worry this much. Rue and Katniss are pretty damn capable and certainly don't need me looking over their shoulder…but somewhere along the way I softened to them. I started caring about them beyond the scope of an alliance. I started caring for them as my friends…well at least I know that's how I feel about Rue.

That relationship is uncomplicated. She's my friend, a sweet kid that I'm glad to have at my side, but Katniss is something else. We still haven't spoken about our kiss last night. I should've been angry at myself for being so weak. I should've regretted it and said that it was meaningless mistake that was just the result of a lot of stress and loneliness…but I've never been a very good liar. Whatever that was, it was sincere and it was the happiest I'd been since I entered the arena. I know that much. I don't quite know my own feelings and I doubt Katniss has hers figured out, but I can't pretend it was nothing. To make matters even more complicated, Katniss and I must've fallen asleep under the tree because when I woke up this morning, we were holding each other. Without so much as a word, we untangled ourselves and looked for anything to occupy our time. Katniss went hunting and went to refill my water bottle, which I drank twice on the way back just so I'd have the excuse of going to refill it again.

Rue woke up, excited to get the day going and brimming with ideas about how to handle the careers. Thank god Katniss isn't exceptionally talkative or else she might've noticed how we weren't really speaking to each other and were making conscious efforts to avoid the other's gaze. There's nothing hateful or angry about it. Rather, it's more like we don't know what to say and neither of us really has an idea about how to approach what happened last night.

I sigh and push all the confusion to the back of my mind. Whatever's going on, it'll have to wait. I've got careers to spy on and I have to be mentally present. I creep to the edge of the tree-line, secluding myself behind a group of bushes dotting the edge of the clearing. I can spot the cornucopia easily, golden and gleaming in the sun like some ornate piece of jewelry. Our target, the giant supply pyramid, is right where I left it off to the side of the cornucopia. I spot Cooper sitting just outside the mouth of the giant horn, but, weirdly enough, not another person. That's odd. I suppose Clove and Lewis could be out…hunting again. I try to suppress a shudder at the thought. But what about Cato? Rue said his leg was fucked up and he wasn't hunting with Lewis and Clove, so I thought he'd be here. But where is he? I find myself rubbing the whiskers on my chin, searching for an answer. I wonder if Katniss and Rue can see something I can't? We're spread out along the tree-line, but I don't know how far. Part of the lake is hidden by a small rise, so I suppose they could be down there…or if they were feeling crazy I suppose they could've gone down into the wheat field behind the horn in search of Thresh, but I highly doubt that. Cato's injured and he's their best chance of defeating the District Eleven giant.

I hear a loud whoop soar across the clearing from the other side of the clearing. My eyes narrow as I spot Lewis and Clove strolling across the grass, weapons in hand. I see Cooper stand timidly to meet them, offering them full water bottles and trying to seem useful. Poor kid. He must know that the clock is ticking when it comes to his safety.

"Any luck?" I hear Cooper ask nervously.

Lewis glares at him. "Did you hear a fucking cannon?" he sneers.

"Well, uh…n-no. I didn't. I just thought you guys might've seen a sign of somebody," Cooper manages, looking incredibly uncomfortable under Lewis' unnerving gaze, a look I never saw in his eyes before yesterday.

Clove chuckles at Cooper's nervousness and slaps Lewis on the back. "Where's Cato?" she asks the nervous boy.

"He's down by the lake, said he wanted to rinse his wound off again," Cooper answers, sitting back down by the mouth of the horn.

"HEY CATO!" Clove screeches.

He appears moments later, cresting the small rise overlooking the blue glassy waters of the lake. He looks alright, but walks with a slight limp, which I can't help but smile at. Whatever his wound is like, it's hidden by his pants.

"Have a good night hunting, you crazy bitch?" Cato asks, smirking at Clove as he arrives at their camp.

"It was alright. Didn't catch anyone though," Clove answers bitterly.

"We haven't even seen a footprint since we caught that crippled fuck yesterday," Lewis comments as he eats a pack of dried fruit from his pack.

Cato chuckles as I feel a shiver run down my spine, awful memories flashing in my mind's eye.

"I still can't believe I missed that," Cato says with a shake of his head.

"You wouldn't have if you could keep up with us," Clove teases, motioning towards Cato's bad leg.

"Fuck off," Cato says with a sibling-like tone reserved just for Clove.

"How's it doing anyway? The painkillers Brutus sent helping any?" Clove asks.

Painkillers? Of course the lucky bastard gets painkillers. It's District Two. Why wouldn't they?

"They help some," Cato answers, rubbing his leg gingerly, "I should be ready to go soon."

"Good," Lewis says, leaning against the wall of the cornucopia, "We're gonna need you to deal with the bitch on fire."

"Don't forget the pair of fucking traitors," Clove adds.

My old friends don't sound like they're exactly missing my company. Good thing the feeling's mutual.

"Think they're all together?" Lewis asks.

Clove thinks for a moment while playing with one of the many knives she keeps in her vest. "Marvel could be anywhere, but I'd bet you a fiddle of gold that the lovers are together," she says.

"You think so?" Lewis asks.

Cato nods in assent. "They'd have to be. I know where I cut Loverboy. There's no way he's lasted this long without somebody looking after him," he says.

That's actually a really good point. Cato almost took Peeta's fucking leg off and I don't think he had much in the way of medical supplies…so how has he lasted this long? We aren't helping him, wherever he is, and I doubt the Thresh or the girl from Five would risk their lives to help him. He must be hiding, just trying to stay out of the way while he recovers…if he's even capable of recovering. It'd take more than a bandage to fix what Cato did to him.

I wonder how Katniss feels about this conversation? She may not love Peeta, but she definitely seems to care about him…at least she did before he joined the careers for a few days. I still don't quite know what to think about that. Peeta joined us, offering Katniss up on a silver platter, but then he intervened and saved her from Cato during the tracker jacker incident. Was that his plan all along or did guilt make him change his mind at the last moment? Like so many people and so many things in the games, Peeta is pretty ambiguous. I still don't know whether or not it was a good idea to save him from Cato. I suppose I'll find out eventually.

I realize the careers kept talking while I was lost in my own head. Cato, Clove and Lewis are still clustered around the mouth, while Cooper has slipped behind the cornucopia, probably just trying to avoid drawing their ire.

"I still can't believe we haven't seen any of those motherfuckers. It's been like five days," Cato huffs.

"Game's getting scarce. There's only ten of us left in this entire arena and there's a million hiding spots out there," Clove answers, "Hell, four of the ten tributes left are right here. That means we're looking for six fucking people hidden somewhere in the miles and miles of forests and fields."

"You don't think we're gonna find them?" Lewis asks.

Clove shrugs. "Odds aren't in our favor," she says.

"We found the boy from Ten, though," Lewis argues.

"That was pure luck. If that dumbass hadn't stumbled and made a lot of noise, we would've walked right past him," Clove retorts.

"We could go after Thresh," Lewis suggests.

"Hell no," Clove says, fierce gaze snapping towards Lewis instantly, "What's wrong with you?"

"At least we know where he is," Lewis offers.

"Yeah, we know exactly where he is: somewhere where he'll have a huge advantage. We can't do that. We need to be patient, make him come fight us on our terms," Clove says dismissively.

Lewis turns to Cato. "C'mon, don't tell me you agree with this?" he asks.

Cato's icy gaze studies the boy from Four silently, his features frozen and betraying absolutely no emotion, like the face of a statue.

"He who is prudent and lies in wait for an enemy who is not, will be victorious," Cato answers stoically.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Lewis asks in frustration.

"It means Clove is right. We wait. We wait for Thresh to leave that wheat field and fight us in the open. Three on one, he doesn't stand a chance. We know it and so does he. That's why he's down there. He needs that advantage. He's counting on us getting impatient and going in there after him half-cocked…But we're not gonna play his game. We're gonna make him play ours," Cato answers, sharing a wicked smile with Clove.

The careers are definitely getting more serious. That cockiness that was practically seeping out of them during training is long gone, the result of being reduced the three fighters, only two of which are uninjured.

"That's a great plan and all, but how are we gonna get him outta that wheat field? And what about the bitch on fire and Marvel? I highly doubt they're just gonna stroll out of the woods and challenge us to fight," Lewis questions.

"My guess is the gamemakers will force us all together. With fewer and fewer tributes, they're gonna get desperate for action," Clove answers.

"Think they'll try a feast?" Lewis asks almost longingly, probably imagining what might be offered.

"Maybe. Although after the forest fire, I wouldn't put it past them to come up with something more creative," Clove answers.

"So what do we do?" Lewis asks, eyes drifting off to the other side of the forest where the snow-capped mountain rises above the trees and into the sky.

"We keep doing what we've been doing," Clove says, balancing a knife delicately on one of her fingers, "I doubt we'll see anyone…but you never know."

The grin on her face quickly spreads across the trio and makes me shudder, bringing back memories of what happened to the boy from Ten. Poor bastard. He couldn't even run away.

Through the trees, the mockingjays carry another tune, a different one, but still one I know. It's the signal to pull back, the one Rue gave us to let us know when to regroup. I start to slip back, but stop to spit in the careers' direction. Hopefully the cameras picked that up. I inch back from the bushes and into the safety of the forest depths. If we're lucky the careers will take a break and give us some time to outline a plan.

XXX

By the time I reach our meeting spot, a large oak tree with branches that stretch out like an umbrella, Katniss and Rue are already there, whispering to each other about something.

"Sorry to be tardy to the party," I say as I stroll over.

Rue smirks but Katniss betrays no emotion. I wish she was a bit more open. Most of the time, I have no idea what the fuck she's thinking.

"We were worried you might've gotten lost," Rue quips as I join their huddle.

"No worries. I just stopped to smell the roses," I say, "So, you pulled us back. I trust you have a plan?"

"That I do," Rue says, "I was just mentioning it to Katniss."

"Yeah, but it might not work," Katniss interjects, unusually skeptical of Rue's idea.

"It depends," Rue retorts, her gaze flickering to the taller girl.

"On what?" I ask.

"On whether or not Cato can leave the cornucopia," Rue answers.

Cato leaving the cornucopia…that's a big maybe, especially with that leg. It seemed like it was getting better, but that doesn't mean he's ready for a lengthy hike into the woods, especially if there's the possibility of a fight.

"That's a pretty big if. His leg still hasn't completely recovered and as long as he's there, getting rid of the supplies will be damn near impossible," I say.

"But what if it was something he couldn't resist? Like the chance to kill one of the few remaining tributes?" Rue asks mischievously.

Katniss shakes her head. "There's a pretty good chance he won't go hunting on that leg," she says.

"He's not going hunting. He'll be going after a guaranteed sign of a tribute. A long hike won't get him up, but a giant cloud of smoke from somebody's campfire just might do it," Rue says, her voice brimming with satisfaction.

Once again, it's another good idea. Cato's been out of action so long, he'd probably jump at the opportunity to get any tribute other than Thresh. Lewis and Clove would definitely be in…that just leaves Cooper.

"Think the boy from Three would go with them?" Katniss asks, seemingly reading my mind.

"I don't know. I haven't seen him leave the cornucopia once since the games started," Rue says, "Still, with their numbers down, he'll probably go with them."

"But what if he doesn't?" Katniss presses.

"What if he does?" Rue counters, meeting Katniss' silver gaze.

"It doesn't matter," I interject. It may not be a pleasant idea, but I know what has to happen if Cooper won't leave the cornucopia.

"What do you mean it doesn't matter? Of course it matters. The plan will fall apart if they don't all go," Katniss says, almost like she doesn't believe her own words.

She knows. She knows, but she doesn't want to think about it. She doesn't want to think about axing a scrawny kid who can't defend himself, even if he did work with the careers.

"If Cooper doesn't go with them, we'll deal with it," I say firmly.

"Deal with it?" Katniss scoffs, "Why don't you just say it? We'll have to kill the poor kid won't we?"

I let out a deep sigh, trying not to think about the twitchy nervous kid dying on the ground in front of me. Ava, Brooke, the boy from Ten…I've seen too many people meet fates they didn't deserve lately.

"Yeah…we'll have to kill him," I concede.

"And who gets the honor?" Katniss drawls sarcastically.

"Probably you or me," I answer, before turning to Rue, "I assume you're going to set the fire?"

"I actually think two of us should do that so we can have more than one fire. It'll keep them out in the woods longer and might even split them up. While two of us handle that, the other heads to the cornucopia and disposes of the supplies," Rue says.

"I don't like it," Katniss says.

"Katniss, we're not the careers. If Cooper's there, neither of us would make him suffer," I say, trying to ease her doubts. Rue and I are in, but we need Katniss on board to pull this off.

"It's more than that. I don't like the idea of killing non-careers, but I could handle it if there was no other way. It's the idea of separating while taking on the careers that bothers me," Katniss says quietly.

"Katniss, it'll be okay," Rue says, offering her most soothing smile, "Whoever sets the fires will be long gone before the careers get there."

"And the person disposing of the supplies?" Katniss fires back.

"You and Marvel are careful. I know that neither of you will go for it unless it's safe," Rue answers calmly, defying her age.

"And what happens if the careers catch one of us in the woods alone? There'll be nothing we can do to help each other," Katniss says, her mouth drawn into a tight frown, "Or what happens if they get back before whoever's disposing of the supplies escapes?"

I shudder at what they might do. What happened to the boy from Ten would seem like mercy compared to that.

"Katniss, we'll be cautious," I start, my gaze flickering between my two friends, "And I'll destroy the supplies. That's the biggest risk and I don't want either one of you taking it."

"Fuck that! You've already risked your life multiple times for us! I'm not about to let you do it again!" Katniss snaps, apparently furious at the idea.

"It's my life to risk and I already said I'd do it!" I spit back.

"And what if I say no?" Katniss returns.

"I don't give a damn if you do. I'm still handling the supplies," I say firmly.

What can she possibly say to that?

Katniss is silent for a moment, her silver gaze darkening into a charcoal gray. I can see the wheels turning in her head and feel her eyes boring into me.

"You're both committed to this?" Katniss asks, peering at Rue and I.

It was Rue's idea. I look at her and can almost feel her resolve, like it's something tangible. She's completely committed and if a wispy twelve-year-old can sign on to this mission, I certainly can.

"I am," Rue says.

"Me too," I add.

Katniss doesn't say anything, just watching both of us with those silver eyes that never reveal anything.

"Katniss, we really need your help on this," I say, hoping to break down her walls.

Katniss meets my gaze and once again I can't decipher the swirl of emotions in those shining silver orbs. I see all the emotions of the games there, all the fears and apprehensions mixed with the excitements and desires. It's confusing, just like everything about Katniss, the girl who's made me do so many things that make no sense.

"I don't like it, but I'll help," Katniss says, Rue and I sharing a grin.

"But I have one condition," Katniss adds.

The smiles drop from our faces.

"What?" I ask.

"I go in to destroy the supplies. I don't want either one of you anywhere near it," she finishes.

XXX

Hours later, long after nightfall, I sit beneath a pine tree, just like the previous evening. The only difference is now I'm alone. Katniss and Rue both disappeared up their trees to sleep a while ago. I'm glad. I wish I could sleep. I'm going to need it for tomorrow.

After some arguing, Katniss delivered the ultimatum: let her go after the supplies or she would personally see to it that the plan never came to fruition. I hated it, but what could I do? I should be celebrating this, but I'm not. Katniss wrenched the most dangerous job out of my hands, greatly increasing my chances for survival, but I'm not happy. I'm sick at the idea of her putting herself in danger like that, especially while I have a job as safe as starting a fire to distract the careers. Why do I care about her so much? It's beyond all reason. Hell, I jeopardized my own safety multiple times for her and all I want to do now is do it again. And what is Katniss probably gonna do once the numbers are down? She's probably gonna put an arrow right between my eyes when it comes down to me or seeing her sister again. And she'd be right to do it. I just wish I had the resolve.

I wish I had more experience with this. I've managed to make the connection, especially after last night, that my recent insanity stems directly from my budding romantic feelings towards Katniss. I still don't know why it's there but I know it's destroying me, like some cancer eating me up from the inside.

I'm feeling another wave of self-loathing coming on when an acorn hits me on the head. I look up, only to be hit by another one and hear a familiar giggle. I spot Rue dangling from the lowest branch of a nearby pine tree, about seven feet off the ground. I should be annoyed, but I can never muster negativity around Rue. She just brings out the best in people.

"Shouldn't you be getting some sleep?" I ask with a slight grin.

Rue drops down and shrugs. "Couldn't sleep knowing what's happening tomorrow," she says with a surprising bit of enthusiasm.

"You're awfully giddy," I say tiredly as Rue plops down beside me.

"And you're awfully miserable," she says, "What's up with you? You've been off all day."

"Yeah," I say with a sigh, "I suppose I have."

"Mind if I ask what's going on?" Rue ventures.

Oh, nothing. I'm just infatuated with Katniss beyond all reason and am constantly putting myself in harm's way because of it. Y'know, pretty standard stuff.

"I think I'm just confused…" I finally answer.

"You worried about what's going to happen when the numbers are down?" Rue asks again, boldly treading into delicate territory.

"Sorta," I say, remembering how I freaked out and bashed my forehead into that tree trunk when I came to my realization.

"You worried about having to kill me or Katniss?" Rue asks quietly.

"No. I already realized I can't kill you guys. I just don't have it in me," I say, my voice weary, "I am worried about Katniss killing me, though."

Rue looks surprised, her small eyes widening and eyebrows raising high onto her small forehead.

"Marvel, Katniss isn't going to kill you," she offers.

"Maybe not now," I say, "But once the careers are out of the way, I know she could do it. Her sister needs her."

Rue doesn't answer and just watches me with sympathy all over her face.

"I don't blame her for it. It's the way things are. I just wish I had the strength to do it. Look at me! I'm fucked! My family needs me and I'm afraid I won't be able to do what's necessary to see them again!" I almost shout, my caution long gone just like my sanity.

"I feel like some fucking defective. If I'd known it would be like this…if I'd known I'd meet people I'd learn to care about, I never would've volunteered," I finish.

Rue watches me thoughtfully before answering. "You're not defective, Marvel. You're just human. It's normal to feel that way. That's how you're supposed to feel about your friends," she says.

"Not in here," I counter wearily, "You're not even supposed to have friends in here."

Rue looks up cautiously before leaning in to whisper in my ear, where the Capitol can't hear.

"This isn't how things are supposed to be. Nobody should be prepared to kill people they care about. That's not normal. That's not right," Rue whispers, "You feeling that way doesn't mean you're defective. It just means you have a heart."

Rue gets up and looks down me with a smile of genuine friendship, one that makes me ache for something, somewhere where things like that could exist without the threat of the Hunger Games or the Capitol taking it all away.

"And trust me when I say that Katniss has one, too," Rue says aloud before walking off and disappearing up her tree.

I sit alone after that, surrounded by silence. I want to believe Rue's words. I really do.

"Is she right?" I ask aloud, desperately hoping for some kind of answer or sign.

No answer comes. There's only silence.

* * *

 **A/N: Whew! Sorry for the long wait, but college keeps me pretty busy. The good news is that I have the rest of this story pretty much planned out and have no intention of giving up. I love you guys for hanging in there and following Marvel's story. As always, all reviews, follows and favorites are greatly appreciated.**


	19. Evening the Odds

I would kill for an axe right now. Turns out, chopping any type of wood, whether it's a branch or a whole tree, is damn near impossible with knives, which is unfortunately all we've got. At least Katniss' had a serrated edge. My fire-starter knife can't saw for shit. I finally get through the small willow branch I've been working on and slip it back into my boot. I quickly drag it across the forest floor and back to my pile. I wish I could pick up branches but we need green wood. Green wood creates way more smoke and the careers need a distraction.

I throw the willow branch on, observing the small pyramid of wood I've constructed about three feet high. It's the last of the piles. We've decided on three, spread out across the arena. Rue's going to light hers first. I wait ten minutes and then light mine, which is the farthest from the cornucopia. The plan is to draw the careers deeper into the woods, giving Rue time to light the middle fire and buying Katniss as much time as possible. If everything goes according to plan, Katniss will have plenty of time to get in, destroy the supplies and get out before the careers return.

I try not to be too pessimistic. Rue's idea is solid and we're all capable, but I just can't shake this feeling…doom, I guess what you'd call it. Even with our plan, I don't feel good. It should work in theory, but no plan I've been involved in during the games has exactly panned out. I try to put it out of my mind and finish the last pile.

One last branch and the miniature pyramid is complete. I can't help but feel a little bit proud of it, even if I'm going to have to destroy it in a few hours. It's still fairly early in the morning, but the careers should begin moving soon and, as Rue suggested, they'll need something to chase. We meet at the same tree as yesterday and, for once, I'm the first person to arrive. Rue scurried up into the canopy a while ago to scout the careers and Katniss must still be finishing her pile. I set my spear down and lean against the trunk of the tree, taking small sips from my water bottle as I wait.

The morning always has this serene quietness you can't find during any other time of day. There's no sound but the occasional call of a bird and the rustle of the ever-present wind through the treetops. It's so peaceful it almost doesn't seem like the arena. Hell, this could be a forest in one of the districts instead of a televised Capitol-killing field. If only.

I'm not completely lost in thought because this time I spot the acorn sailing towards my forehead and deftly catch it. I hear a disappointed a sigh and look up to see Rue in the branches above my head.

"You're getting predictable," I say with wide grin.

Rue shrugs and drops down beside me. "It worked the first couple times. You get your piles done?" she asks.

"I certainly did. What about Katniss?" I ask.

"I'm done, too," Katniss says, trudging up to us through the trees, still holding her serrated knife. A few beads of sweat trickle down her forehead and I notice a little bit of wear and tear on her hands, which she will of course never mention. I suspect Katniss could have an arrow through her foot and still wouldn't complain to us. That's just how she is.

"Rue, what're the careers up to?" I ask, knowing she'd been scouting them while Katniss and I were gathering wood.

"All still sound asleep except for the boy from Four," Rue says, "But they should be up soon."

"How much time do you think we've got?" I ask.

"I'd say about an hour," Rue says, "Do we all know the plan?"

Katniss and I both nod, all lightness vanishing from the atmosphere around the willow tree.

"Marvel, do you have your fire-starter knife?" Rue presses.

I slide the object out of my boot for an answer. Rue looks satisfied and nods her head.

"Alright, you guys know what to do. I light my fire and draw the careers away so Katniss can go in there and do her thing," Rue says, "Marvel, wait ten minutes and then light yours."

"And then you go to get the middle fire…I know," I say.

"That should keep the careers busy for a while, but still…I wouldn't take too long, Katniss," Rue cautions, looking nervously at the older girl. I know that look. She's worried about Katniss' safety just like me. It's no secret who's got the most dangerous job out of us three.

"I'll be fast," Katniss says, attempting to reassure the small girl.

"Should we use the same signal as before?" I ask, referring to Rue's ingenious mockingjay call.

"Definitely. Make sure to use it if either of you get in trouble," Rue says, her voice almost maternal.

Without hesitation, Rue pulls Katniss into a hug. Katniss is startled by the gesture, but quickly melts into it, wrapping her arms around the tiny girl in return.

"You be careful," Rue says into Katniss' chest.

"You too," the older girl returns, her voice brimming with emotion. She must be thinking of Prim.

Rue breaks from the hug and quickly turns on me, enveloping me in one as well. Honestly, I'm shocked. I knew Rue was my friend, but I didn't think she was as fond of me as she was of Katniss. The surprise must be all over my face because Katniss tries not to laugh as I return the hug. It's a bit difficult with the top of Rue's head barely reaching my ribs.

"Good luck, Marvel," Rue says.

I suddenly feel a bit uneasy by this goodbye. She wouldn't do this unless she thought we might not all make it. The thought makes me tighten my grip around my little ally, the kind girl who saved the life of a career who'd never done a thing for her.

"You stay safe," I manage. Rue breaks the hug and nods at me and then Katniss.

Then she begins to climb, quickly scaling a nearby pine and hopping away through the branches. Katniss and I both stand, transfixed, watching for her long after she's out of sight.

I look back at her and feel the pressure around us increase. It's the first time we've been alone since…that night beneath the tree. I meet that familiar silver gaze and see all my confused emotions reflected there. Neither of us know what this is...if it's anything at all. I feel like I should say something to her, something important…but the words don't come. We both look away awkwardly.

"Good luck," I say lamely, recalling what Rue said to me.

"Thanks…you too," Katniss says quietly. She fixes that unreadable gaze on me one last time before turning and heading off, bow in hand.

I sigh, probably too loudly, before turning to pick up my spear and heading out. I try to push all thoughts of whatever's going on between Katniss and I from my mind. There's work to be done.

* * *

A few hours later, I'm still sitting by my pile, playing with my fire starter knife. The flint in the detachable section of the handle is excellent and sparks just about every time, provided you strike it at the right angle. In my boredom, I managed to set a small leaf on fire, holding it by the stem and studying it as the flame spread across its dried surface like some kind of disease.

I don't know what's keeping Rue. I periodically raise my head, expecting to see smoke billowing into the sky, but am consistently met with the same pure patch of blue void. Rue said she'd light the fire. I assumed she'd be lighting the fire in about an hour but we're way beyond that. It's mid-morning now. Maybe the careers slept in and Rue didn't want to risk burning down the wood before they woke up? That could be it. It wouldn't surprise me at all if those lazy bastards thought they were owed a little extra sleep.

Hopefully nothing's gone wrong. I try the mockingjay call, whistling the simple note. I listen as the birds carry it through the trees and across the forest. A few minutes later, it comes back and I feel relieved. At least one of my allies is okay.

Maybe I should've said something more to Katniss…but what? She stands the greatest chance of dying and she's been one of my closest friends in the arena. Hell, she's been a lot more than that and the only thing I said to her was "good luck." It's so unfitting and now she might die. I try to tell myself that she won't, that everything will be just fine and that the plan will work to perfection, but I've long since lost the luxury of optimism. That's probably the first casualty of the games and everyone loses it…except maybe Rue who's somehow held onto hers. It could be because she hasn't been forced to take a life yet. Most of the people left have already crossed that line and I'm afraid it's impossible to get to the end of this thing if you're unable to cross it.

I turn my head again and am met by a welcome sight: smoke. A huge cloud of beautiful smoke is rising out of the forest and certainly drawing the goddamn careers away from the cornucopia. I pick up my spear and feel something almost the same as excitement, a certain readiness. I like a challenge. If the stakes weren't life and death, I might actually enjoy myself in here.

After what I guess is ten minutes, I yank my fire-starter knife out of my boot and get to work. I've layered the bottom of the pile with a surplus of dead grasses and leaves, the stuff that catches really easily. The first strike sends a shower of sparks onto the pile, but nothing catches. I frown and try again, but am met with the same result.

C'mon, you stupid piece of shit.

If I can't light this fire, we're in trouble. With this thought, I give it one last good strike, raking the blade across the flint and sending all the sparks I can onto the leaves. To my relief, one catches and fire quickly spread to the rest of the dry kindling. Soon, there's a genuine blaze going on the pile and the first plumes of smoke are rising into the atmosphere.

As much as I'd love to stay and watch my success, I know I've got to get moving. With this fire going, I should have careers inbound in a matter of minutes. I slide my knife back into my boot and pick up my spear before taking off. I run for about five minutes straight, dodging and weaving between the trees. I finally stop when I notice a clear blue pond beneath small rise of limestone. It's the first fresh water other than the river and the lake I've seen in the arena and it's a welcome sight. It's way too small for any mutts to hide in and away from the careers.

I flop down beside it and scoop a handful of water in to my mouth, holding it to make sure it's not poisonous or something. When I'm confident it's just cool, refreshing water, I swallow and feel it soothe my ragged throat. I stretch my legs out and lay down, my hands resting behind my head like a pillow. I can just make out the sky through the thick branches over my head. I wonder how Katniss and Rue are doing? Rue's probably waiting to light the last fire and Katniss…hopefully Katniss is close to destroying the supplies without blowing herself up. As much as I try, I can't quite remember the spacing on those mines. I don't know if blowing up one would set off a chain reaction or if she'd have to set a bunch of them off to destroy the supplies. Hell, maybe she doesn't need to use the mines. Maybe the careers left some lighter fluid around and she can burn the pile without getting too close. A flaming arrow might do it, but I don't know if Katniss has something a little more creative in mind.

Lying down, I'm more aware of my weariness. The games just take it out of you, both mentally and physically. The stress is compounded by the constant danger and it presses and presses you until you feel like you're going to break…and some do. Some go crazy. Some lose the will to fight on. Others, like me, just desperately need a nap.

I lazily look at my arms, noticing how much muscle mass I've lost in the time I've been in here. I was never as bulky as Cato, but I have some muscle on me…or I did. Thanks to my height, I look like a beanpole now. I'd kill for a steak. Hell, I'd kill for a sandwich. Something filling would be wonderful. I'm grateful for the food I've had, but wild onions and rabbit morsels only go so far and you're never completely full in here. I suppose I should've expected that from an event called the _Hunger_ Games.

Just when I feel myself drifting off to my dreams, I hear it. The boom from what I guess was the mines thunders across the arena, the force of it ripping through the branches and sending every bird in the area into a panicked, squawking flight. A few rabbits even run by me, forgoing all caution in hope of escape the menace of the sound. I sit there frozen, wondering. Did Katniss do it right? Did she set off and get clear or did she blow herself up? It's a possibility, one that seizes me with terror. The cannon shot could've easily been lost in the explosion, just like any remains. Or worse, what if the explosion injured her? The careers are almost certainly on their way back there and if they found Katniss lying there injured…

No. I can't let that happen. I pick up my spear and hurry back towards the cornucopia, weaving through the forest as fast as possible. I don't know where the careers are, but if Katniss is down there injured, I can only hope I'll get to her first.

I reach a familiar slope and hurry down towards the cornucopia. I'm about to crash through the brush and into the clearing when I catch myself. If the careers are already there, I need to be cautious. I force myself to be calm when everything inside is telling me to just go. I creep forward and peer out through the brush. I see the familiar golden form of the cornucopia and the mountain rising above the horizon behind it. The lake is right where I left it but the pile of supplies is long gone…and in its place is a smoldering crater.

Holy shit.

My eyes quickly scan the area for any sign of Katniss, but find none. I immediately feel relief wash over me. I don't think Katniss would be crazy enough to step on a mine and if she's not here injured, she must've already taken off. And now the careers have no supplies.

I'm about to turn away when the pack returns, charging into the clearing with Cato leading the way on his surprisingly mobile leg. He stiffens when he sees the crater, coming to a sudden stop. Clove, Lewis and Cooper all freeze behind him, jaws hanging open at the sight. It only takes a moment for Cato to go into hysterics, screaming in anger, pounding the ground and tearing his hair out. It's such a ridiculous sight that I can't help but chuckle, although it does indicate Cato may not be all there mentally.

While Cato's imploding, I notice Cooper edge around him and begin throwing rocks into the crater, testing for any other active mines. Lewis hangs back and I see Clove talking to Cato, trying to placate him. Cooper looks back the same time Cato raises his head. There's a moment of brief eye contact and a thought seems to hit Cato: Cooper's done his job a bit too well.

It all happens in a moment. Cato surges away from Clove towards Cooper. The poor kid realizes the danger too late and only has time to take one step before he's seized in Cato's massive arms. Cato grips the boy's head like a doorknob and with a quick twist and a sickening crack, the cannon fires. The echo is still sounding when Cato drops Cooper's twitching corpse on the ground unceremoniously.

Clove immediately rushes to Cato, trying to calm him, while Lewis looks on Cooper's twitching body with mild interest. I can't watch anymore and slink away from the brush. Cooper's death is…unfortunate but I knew it was coming. That poor kid just wasn't going to last. I slowly make my way back towards our meeting spot, the willow tree, careful to avoid being caught out in the open. I don't know if the careers are going to hang back and search through the crater or if they're going to scour the woods in search of those responsible for their woes.

When I reach the tree, it's well into the afternoon. Unfortunately, there's no sign of Katniss or Rue. Where the hell are they? My mind immediately starts backtracking, searching for that clue I must've missed to what happened to them. Katniss might be lying low after destroying the supplies. Maybe she couldn't get far enough away from the careers and had to hide. But what about Rue? She's not dead. I would've heard her cannon, but that doesn't explain why she's not here. She should've had plenty of time to light the last fire and get back here to regroup. Is she staying up in the trees for some reason? A mutt? One of the careers? I try Rue's mockingjay call, once again listening to the birds carry the tune away. I stand there, ears cocked and desperate for an answer that never comes. I feel my fear rising. Something definitely could be wrong…on the other hand, they might've just not heard it. For all I know, they could just be making sure the careers aren't combing the forest before moving.

Part of me wants to head out into the forest in search of them, but where would I go? No. The best thing is to wait here for them. This is where we said we'd meet so it's my best chance of finding them. I lean against the willow trunk, my spear ready and eyes scanning the forest for my allies and my enemies. If the careers do go hunting, hopefully they'll split up. One on one, I'm prepared to face any of them…even Cato. He looked alright back at the cornucopia, but I suspect his leg wouldn't handle combat too well. Strangely, the one I'm most afraid of now is Lewis. After what he did to the boy from Ten…I just know something's not right in that kid's head. Maybe it was Brooke's death or maybe it was the stress of the games or maybe it was being around Cato and Clove for so long. The games just change people…usually not for the better.

I sit and watch the sun gradually drop below the horizon, awaiting the arrival of Katniss or Rue. I don't like this. They should've been back by now. For them to take this long, something's keeping them hidden. My guess is mutts or careers. Memories of the wolves return and I shudder, the sensation of their jagged teeth tearing into my flesh palpable. Would the gamemakers go for something like that again? Somehow, I doubt it. If there's one thing I know about them, it's that they take pride in their morbid creativity. That seems to indicate letting the careers do it themselves. I put the mockingjay call out several more times but receive no reply, only making me more nervous. I feel helpless. My gut tells me to go out and search for them, but my head dissents. I have no idea where they are and I'm far more likely to reunite with them at our meeting spot than while searching miles and miles of forest. Not to mention what else might be creeping through the forest right now.

I sit quietly as night falls, watching the sky for my answers. When the first notes of the anthem begin to play, I perk up and stare expectantly at the seal of the Capitol, suspended amongst the stars. Cooper's face appears, looking meek and non-threatening, and I hold my breath, waiting for the next face. No other faces appear and I let out a sigh of relief. Katniss and Rue are both okay…but then another thought hits me: the careers now know for sure that whoever blew up their precious supplies is still alive.

* * *

My eyes snap open as the first rays of sunlight hit them, greeted by the sight of the sleepy forest starting to come to life. I slept here? Completely out in the open? Inwardly, I curse myself for my stupidity. Here I was, all night, sleeping under a tree, completely open to whatever mutt or career happened to pass by. I was goddamn lucky. I can't imagine what Katniss would say if she'd se-

That thought brings me back to why I was under this tree in the first place: Katniss and Rue. I jump up and quickly search the area. Nothing. I can't even find a footprint to indicate they might've been here. Something's happened. Something bad. I just know it.

I chug the rest of my water bottle before picking up my pack, which until now had served as a lovely backrest, and my spear. I know exactly where to go: the last fire. If they were going to come back here, they would've made it by now…unless something is holding them up. Figuring out whether Rue made it to the last fire or not might help me pick up her trail and if I find her, she can help me find Katniss as well.

I slink through the forest, towards where I think the middle fire was. My ears are cocked and my eyes sweep from side to side constantly, watching for anything out of the ordinary. If I had some luck on my side I'd run into Katniss or Rue out here…but the way my luck's been going, I'll probably run into Clove. I clutch my spear tighter as I move, jogging across the familiar ground and ready to throw at a moment's notice. It's still early and I doubt the careers are up, but you never know. After yesterday, their anger might override their laziness.

It's mid-morning by the time I reach the fire…or untouched pile of wood is more like it. It immediately sets off my alarms. So something happened in between me lighting the second fire and Katniss blowing up the supplies. Something slowed Rue down and she was never able to light it. Katniss is probably just wandering around the woods like me, but what about Rue? I instantly feel myself clamp up, worry for the little girl overtaking me. She's done great on her own, but she's still one of the most vulnerable people left. All those survival skills don't mean much against big mean motherfuckers like Cato and Thresh.

I put out the mockingjay tune again, increasingly frantic. Like a message in a bottle, it's carried away and never returned. I run my hands through my shaggy, matted hair and try to think. Where are they? I can't believe neither of them heard that. Even if they were both injured, they should still be able to return the simple whistle. I try it again and receive the same result.

I quickly move away and begin checking all the places Katniss, Rue and I have frequented during our wonderful time in the arena. I check the river, our old campsite and even the tracker jacker tree, where the shell of the decayed nest still sits. I shiver and can't help but rub the spots my stings where my stings were, recalling their burn and the awful hallucinations they brought.

All the spots are empty. Frustrated, I flop down beneath an oak tree and try to think of where else I could check. The cornucopia? No, that's completely insane, although Katniss just might have the audacity to do something like that. Is it possible they ditched me?

That thought gives me pause. It could be true and it'd make sense, especially for Rue who wouldn't stand a chance against me in combat. But why would Katniss take off? I suspect that if she was ready to call this quits, she'd just kill me…unless she's feeling the same hesitations I'm feeling.

No, that's absurd. There's no way she's being as stupid as I am. There's just no way. I can't deny part of me would like to believe it, to believe that I'm not alone in feeling that way. But I just have to face it. Katniss is smart and she's here to win and she won't hesitate to kill me when the time comes.

I push the melancholy thoughts aside and am about to stand up when I hear a distinctive _caw_ sound behind me. I turn over my shoulder to see a large crow watching me from the low branches of a nearby pine. It ruffles its sleek ebony feathers and stares at me with a gaze darker than ink. Its eyes are impenetrable black pearls, watching me from their place in the crow's rigid head. Somehow, its gaze is unsettling and not void of intelligence, like it knows something. I ready my spear. This could be a mutt for all I know. I'm remember studying film of the last Quarter Quell and seeing a bird kill a tribute by skewering her throat, so I'm not taking any chances.

The bird just sits there watching me, making me feel uneasy. It makes no move to attack, peering at me with the same unnerving gaze. I hear another _caw_ and turn to see another crow in the oak behind me, so similar to the other that if they sat next to each other I'd never be able to tell them apart. I hear another _caw_ and then another as more crows arrive on the scene, almost like the forest itself is conjuring them into existence. When the _caws_ stop, I'm surrounded by six crows, circled around me in various trees and watching me with their dark eyes. I feel nervous, knowing I'm in the crossfire of their gazes. I can't explain it but they feel lethal.

I swallow nervously. This reeks of gamemaker shenanigans…but then why aren't the crows attacking me. In a way, I'd almost prefer that. There's something awful about their silence, something sinister. Maybe the gamemakers are trying some sort of psychological warfare on me, trying to get me twisted up in my own head. Well not me. Fuck these creepy crows, fuck the careers, fuck the gamemakers, fuck the Capitol and fuck President Snow. I've got to find my friends.

With new resolve, I pick up my spear and begin to move and that's when the chorus starts. All six crows begin hurling their _caws_ at me as if they were weapons, their pointed beaks aimed at me as I begin to move. One takes flight and dive-bombs near my face. I throw my hands up in defense but the only attack comes in the form of a hideously loud _caw_ in my ear. Like peacekeepers carrying out orders, their crows harass me with rigid discipline. My head feels like it's about to explode, each _caw_ pounding in my head like a drum and somehow terrifying me.

Without another thought, I begin to run, only conscious of the fact that the crows and their awful _caws_ aren't far behind me.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry it took a while to update, but college doesn't leave me with a lot of free time. The good news is that I got this done and that the careers have lost their supplies...but our hero has lost his allies as well. With so few tributes left, the competition is heating up and every decision has dire consequences. As always, all reviews, follows and favorites are greatly appreciated.**


	20. Goodbye, My Friend

I run. I run and I try not to think about the fact that I'm running from something as ridiculous as a pack of noisy crows. All my grace, coordination and dexterity has been thrown off by their squawking and I stumble through the forest, my lankly limbs crashing through the maze of branches and underbrush. I'm completely thrown off…almost like after I was stung by the tracker jackers. My lungs tighten and scream for more oxygen while beads of sweat slip down my torso and into my many scratches, burning me as I run.

My foot catches on a root and I faceplant into a bed of pine needles. Inexplicably terrified, I immediately roll over and take a defensive stance, spear ready and muscles coiled for battle. It's then that I notice the silence of the forest. The crows are gone and not even the sound of leaves rustling penetrates the silence. When did the crows go away? I could hear their squawks pounding inside my head the whole time I was running. I heard them as I fell and yet they're gone, vanished as strangely as they came.

It must've been the gamemakers. They must've pushed me right here for a specific reason. Why else would six crow randomly decide to harass me?

It then occurs to me that if the gamemakers pushed me here…I'm probably not the only one. My hands instinctively tighten around my spear at the thought and I start scanning the forest, trying to see beyond the wall of trees. They want me here, most likely to fight someone, but who?

I hope it's Clove. Of my remaining enemies, she's probably the one I'm most confident against. Thresh, despite his lack of training, would be a terrifying adversary in close-combat and Cato…well, even injured, he's still Cato. I haven't forgotten our last struggle, where he was hallucinating on tracker jacker venom and I still barely escaped with my life.

Lewis is another story. In spite of what I saw him do to the boy from Ten, I can't quite find it in my heart to hate him like I do Clove or Cato. Lewis is…lost. In a way, he's a living victim of the Games. It stripped him of who he was and remade him in its image, something dark and cruel and far removed from the nervous kid I chucked spears with back at the Training Center. That kid's long gone and what's left is only a shadow. I can't hate that. I can't hate something so broken.

I almost expect one of these adversaries to spontaneously appear like the crows did, but instead there's nothing. Those bastards must want to build the suspense. I keep forgetting that while this is a life and death struggle for me, it's just good television to them. As more time ticks by, I begin simmering, imagining the gamemakers chuckling in their control room as I stand here, nervous as cat and watching every possible inch of the forest for any sign of my enemies.

As I turn, certainly not hoping but expecting to see Cato drawing his sword or Clove digging a knife out of her vest, I see something I wasn't looking for: a camera. Usually they're concealed but this one is built right into one of the trees, its huge glassy lens about as subtle as a rampaging elephant against the rough bark of the tree. I can't help but draw closer, looking deep into its blank eye. Although I can't see them, I know the gamemakers are watching me. Hell, maybe this is on television. It's been kinda slow lately and I'm sure me hauling ass away from a few crows sent those drunken Capitol idiots into hysterics.

I can feel the bitterness rising. This camera is the first cog of the Capitol machine I've encountered in here and it brings out the worst in me. The tributes that have died so far, all fifteen of them, died for this. They died so the Capitol could be entertained. I realize how stupid I've been. As distasteful and brutal and unpleasant as most of the careers have been, they aren't the enemy. This right here, the camera, the Capitol is the enemy. The careers wouldn't even exist if it wasn't for the Games. They'd just be normal teenagers if this competition didn't exist. They would've never been molded into the hardened killers they are today.

I'm about to pick up a rock to smash the damn thing when I first hear it, a scream. But it's not just any scream, it's lighter, higher and terrified. It's the scream I heard when Striker was little and had nightmares of monsters creeping out of the darkness towards him. It's a child's scream.

Rue. The thought makes my stomach drop and, without another thought, I begin sprinting towards the source. It's just sound at first, but I keep running and it becomes intelligible. I make out my name, along with Katniss and frantic calls for help. It makes me sprint even faster, the maze of trees flying by in whirlwind as my body takes on a weightless quality. Nothing, not the spear in my hand or the weight of my pack against my shoulders could slow me down. Not when my little ally is in danger.

"Katniss! Help!"

The call is clearer now and it raises my panic. The forest has come alive now, wind forcing itself through the branches as birds fly off, frightened by the terrified sounds.

"Marvel! Katniss!"

The voice is so close now and I hear the frightened octaves rising in pitch. I only pray I'm not too late.

I put on a final burst of speed, cresting a small rise, and am immediately met by the sight of Lewis over twenty yards away, standing over the terrified form of Rue beneath a heavy net. He grins maliciously as she screams and raises his spear.

No.

It's too far to throw, even for me.

I do the only thing I can, run and hope I can get close enough to throw in time. I leap forward as Lewis' raises his spear to the zenith of its height.

"LEWIS! NO!" I scream, a mixture of rage and terror as I desperately try to get into my throwing stance.

It all happens in a second. Lewis drives his spear down as he turns to look at me. He must've heard me over Rue's cries. I bring my arm back to throw and I notice his eyes widen. It's then that a silver arrow buries itself in his neck.

Katniss has arrived on the scene out of nowhere and begins rushing towards the pair as Lewis crumbles to his knees, gargling and feebly trying to stop the crimson flow from his neck. Katniss' face is contorted into a look of rage and anguish and it's then that I notice the reason. Lewis' spear found its mark, lodging itself deeply in the small girl's stomach.

Katniss flings her bow down and delivers a vicious kick to Lewis' face, knocking his frail body away from Rue and leaving him sprawled out on the forest floor, drowning in his own blood. I feel myself move automatically, dropping my spear and rushing over as Katniss kneels down beside Rue.

I find myself standing over them as Katniss takes the small girl's hand, holding it like it's something precious.

"You blew up the food?" Rue asks, her voice a delicate whisper.

"Every last bit," Katniss says, emotion seeping into her voice.

It's then that Rue notices me standing there and manages a weak smile.

"Hey Marvel. Sorry I didn't get to that last fire," Rue says.

"Don't you worry about that," I say, my voice beginning to tremble.

I'm suddenly aware of how far away I am and I immediately remedy it, hustling over to Rue's other side. I kneel down and take her unoccupied hand. My eyes drift down to the wound and I know it's over. A blow like that definitely got some vital organs and god only knows how much internal bleeding there is. I look over to Katniss and notice her meet my gaze. Her shimmering silver eyes are almost pleading, begging me to say what she knows isn't true, that Rue will be alright. I merely shake my head. Katniss is a hunter. She knows what this means.

"You guys can't let them win," Rue says, her gaze drifting over to Lewis.

"I promise," Katniss says, squeezing Rue's hand.

I look down at her and give her the best smile I can, which she returns even better.

"Don't worry. They're not winning. No fucking way," I say, my voice tight but convicted.

A cannon shot booms and I take a sharp breath before I notice Rue's still with us. It must've been for Lewis.

"Don't go," Rue says, tightening her grip on both our hands.

"We're not going anywhere," I say. I just wish the spear wasn't in the way. I'd give anything to be able to give her a hug right now.

"It's okay," Katniss whispers, bringing the small girl into her lap and stroking her hair the tender way a mother would.

"Can you sing for me?" Rue asks Katniss, her voice a whisper.

Sing. Of course she wants that, her love of music and her mockingjay tunes. Katniss' gaze snaps to me, looking shocked. I can't sing. I know that. My voice is about as beautiful as President Snow in a thong…but maybe Katniss can sing.

She looks a bit nervous, like she's trying to think of something. Whatever it is seems to hit her and she gives a small cough before beginning:

 _Deep in the meadow, under the willow_

 _A bed of grass, a soft green pillow_

 _Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes_

 _And when again they open, the sun will rise_

Katniss' voice is beyond beautiful. Its magical. Its notes are as pure as a diamond, flowing out and hanging softly in the air above us. For the second time today, the forest has gone silent.

 _Here it's safe, here it's warm_

 _Here the daisies guard you from every harm_

 _Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true_

 _Here is the place where I love you_

Rue's eyes have gently closed and her breathing has slowed, but she still holds my hand. I feel tears I didn't know I was crying fall from my face as Katniss summons the strength to continue.

 _Deep in the meadow, hidden far away_

 _A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray_

 _Forget your woes and let your troubles lay_

 _And when again it's morning, they'll wash away_

 _Here it's safe, here it's warm_

 _Here the daisies guard you from every harm_

 _Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true_

 _Here is the place where I love you._

Katniss whispers the last few lines and we sit for a moment before the cannon fires. Katniss presses a gentle kiss into the little girl's forehead and I give her hand one last squeeze before we gently place her on the ground.

Katniss gets up and goes to loot Lewis' corpse, but I can't take my eyes off of Rue. She looks smaller and more vulnerable than ever, curled around the spear like a wounded animal. I dry my eyes and notice that the mockingjays have taken up Katniss' song, the notes beautiful even from the throats of the mutant birds.

Katniss must not have found much on Lewis because she picks up her bow and begins to head out. Not wanting to be left behind, I grab my spear and head after her. Before I've reached her, she stops and pivots toward me. I'm no fool though. She's not looking at me. She's looking at Rue.

I look back and feel my heart ache at the sight. It looks like a murder scene…which I suppose it was. Rue deserves better than that. I owe her more than that.

Katniss seems to be thinking the same thing because she turns her unflinching gaze on me.

"Will you help me?" she asks.

I merely nod as answer and follow as Katniss begins moving. She hurries over to a patch of wildflowers I hadn't even noticed. They're beautiful and delicate. They seem like something too good for this arena…just like Rue. Katniss begins gathering them and I do the same. We hurry back to where Rue lies with our bounty and Katniss immediately gets to work, decorating our fallen friend with flowers. I pick it up quickly and join in. We cover the ugly wound and wreathe her face with the beautiful petals. Slowly, Katniss even weaves them through her hair, slowly softening the hard edges of the grisly scene. Covered by the flowers and with her eyes serenely closed, Rue doesn't look dead. She looks like she's sleeping peacefully, dreaming of somewhere beautiful where kids get to grow up instead of dying young.

We need to get moving. Like it or not, the bodies must be collected. Knowing the Capitol, they won't want to show this, but they'll have to. They have to film the bodies when they're picked up. Katniss gets up and I move to follow before I remember something. I dig through my pack and find a small acorn, one of the many ones Rue had thrown at me. I gently place it in Rue's tiny hand and close her fingers around it.

"Thanks, little buddy," I whisper before getting up.

Katniss hasn't gone far, pausing about ten feet from the body. She turns and presses the three middle fingers of her left hand to her lips and extends them out towards Rue. It's a silent salute and it carries its own weight and more. Then, without looking back, Katniss walks away. I pause a moment before following, looking back at Rue, resting peacefully in her bed of flowers. The only blemish is the shaft of Lewis' spear still sticking out of her. I could move it, or even take it for myself, but I don't. It's better to let it go. I doubt I could ever find the strength to use that spear anyway.

My gaze drifts over to Lewis, who's still sprawled out on his back not too far from Rue. He must've bled out. He looks awful, blank eyes open, staring at nothing like a caught fish. His bronze face and his clothes are streaked with his crimson blood, which has run into the dirty ground around him and turned it into some kind of grisly mud. I suppose the decent thing to do would be to pose him, close his eyes and make him look somewhat peaceful for the cameras, for his family. But I look back at Rue and can't find the desire to do anything for Lewis. After what he did, I don't feel like doing him any favors.

I turn and notice Katniss moving briskly through the woods, with some unimaginable purpose in mind. Without another thought, I hurry after her.

* * *

Katniss marches aimlessly through the woods for I don't know how long, eyes fixed forward and not answering any question about where she's going. She must be too torn up about Rue. Even I could see there was a special bond between the two, the way they laughed and talked of home, almost like they were sisters sharing the most intimate of secrets. Katniss has always seemed so strong, sturdy and grounded as an oak tree, surviving whatever adversity came her way, from her father's death to being roped into the Hunger Games. But Rue's death seems to have rattled her, enough to make her shed tears.

I follow in her wake most of the day. After a few attempts, I give up trying to get her to tell me where she was going. I suspect she doesn't even know. I think she's just moving, desperately trying to make sure things don't slow down. When things slow down and your thoughts creep in, that's when everything gets harder. The dam of your composure, keeping back torrents of emotion, begins to crack with the calm and, once it does, you will shatter.

By dusk, she seems to have worn herself out…that or her instincts of self-preservation are making a comeback. Without a word to me, she scurries up a massive oak tree, into the high branches that sway like antennae in the wind. Okay, maybe her instincts of self-preservation aren't quite back yet. I climb up one branch and stop, not wanting to press my luck and suspecting Katniss wants to be alone. I simply lean back on the sturdy bark, savoring the strength of the branch and the feeling of security that comes with being off the ground. It's nice to be in a tree for once, a little ways away from whatever mutts may come prowling tonight. Then again, I doubt any mutts would come tonight. Two people died today. That's more than enough entertainment.

I feel a slight chill coming on, yet another way the gamemakers subtly make our lives miserable. I dig through my pack, looking for my extra socks, when something gives me pause. A wild onion, just one, nestled in the confines of my bag. I lift it up slowly and with it comes memories. Memories of soothed tracker jacker stings. Memories a friendly laugh. Memories of hugs and jokes and good ideas and a few acorns hitting me in the forehead. I feel tears threatening and quickly put the onion back. I haven't forgotten the cameras. Rue deserves the tears, but they certainly don't. Rue's death was nothing to them but a superb television drama, sad but ultimately unimportant in the grand scheme of things. I'll hold them 'til the time is right, when there's no way for them to convert my pain into their entertainment.

It's not easy. Letting the emotions and memories take over would be easier. I wish I was still moving. Moving kept the thoughts and the memories away, just like I'm sure it did for Katniss. As they come back, passing one at a time like pages in a book, I realize just how much I didn't deserve Rue, both as an ally and a friend. I didn't deserve her kindness, her help, her trust. She saved me and yet I let her down when she needed me most. She needed my help and I failed, allowing Lewis to skewer her while she lay helpless in his net. Now, she's gone. Her siblings have lost their big sister. Her parents have lost their daughter. And I've lost my friend...and it's all my fault.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, seeing the memories pass before my eyes.

As if on cue, the anthem begins to play. Wearily, I raise my head and gaze upon the seal of the Capitol, which grows more distasteful with each passing day. Lewis' grinning face appears first, porcelain smile gleaming and bronze skin unmarred. It's the old Lewis, the fidgety kid from training…not the mutt the arena made him into. Lewis' face is quickly replaced by Rue's and I swallow a lump in my throat. She looks so happy, so serene in her photo. Her dark eyes have that familiar playfulness and spark of intelligence that always proved invaluable. All that value and all that potential snuffed out at twelve-years-old because I wasn't enough. Rue deserved a better friend than me. Her face soon vanishes, leaving the sky dark and taking the last remnant of my friend away forever.

* * *

It's deep into the night when I stir. Judging by the where the moon is, I'd say it's an hour or two past midnight…at least in the arena it is. Who knows what time it is in the real world. I don't know when I fell asleep but it must've been sometime after the anthem. Thinking of the anthem brings me back to Rue and how she's gone. I wish I hadn't woken up. Sleep gives me some reprieve from the daily misery of the games.

I readjust myself again the hard bark of the trunk, but notice something, weight leaning into my left side. I twist my head over to see Katniss, knocked out and using my shoulder as a pillow. Is this a dream? My mind is still foggy with sleep so maybe.

"Katniss?" I say.

"Hmmm…" she mutters, squinting her eyes tighter.

The time she slept next to me before, she looked peaceful, serene in a way she can never afford to be while she's awake. Now she just looks…sad. Sad and distressed even in sleep. Rue's death must be hitting her even harder than I thought. God knows it's hitting me too.

I decide not to press the situation, even if it's incredibly confusing. Now isn't the time to ask her what's going on in her head. I simply put my arm around her and pull her closer. She presses into me and mumbles something into my shoulder, but I don't quite catch it. I'm too busy noticing the sense of rightness being with Katniss always fills me with. It's odd. A few weeks ago, I didn't even know of her existence and somewhere along the way I just started to care for her in a way that I've never cared for anyone. I wish time hadn't passed and the Games hadn't intruded. Who knows what might've happened to us if we could just know each other without the threat of competition hanging over our heads.

There's so much to figure out and so little time to do it. The Games are winding down. We're down to the final seven tributes and I don't want to think about what'll happen if we outlive the other five. I need to talk to Katniss to figure all this shit out, but it can wait a little longer. It can wait 'til tomorrow.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey, guys. Sorry for the delay but this was an extremely difficult chapter to finish. While I was in the process of editing it, I got a call from my dad saying that my grandfather had passed away. That really took it out of me for a while, especially considering this chapter's content. While not unexpected, my grandfather's death wasn't easy to process and it took some time before I was ready to finish this one. Once again, I just want to say that I love you guys for reading and that y'all mean a lot to me. Even if some of you thought I never noticed the love you gave this story, I did and I'm so grateful.**


	21. Catharsis

In my dreams I see mockingjays, scattered throughout the trees. I walk beneath them as they sing, warm sunlight caressing my back through the gaps in the trees. They sing Rue's tune, the familiar, beautiful, tragic notes of music filling every empty space in the forest, from hollow logs to rabbit burrows. I look around, almost expecting to see my friend after her death like I did with Brooke…but she never comes. Only the music remains and the memories remain. It isn't much but it'll have to do.

I begin to stir as I feel someone's weight shifting. I open my eyes groggily to see Katniss, quietly getting up and sneaking around me.

Oh, right.

Katniss.

We…cuddled each other again.

My foggy mind is preoccupied, trying to understand my equally foggy relationship with Katniss. It gives her the time she needs. She drops down onto the ground and begins to move away.

What the hell?

"Katniss?" I call out.

She stiffens at the sound of my voice and suddenly begins running without so much as a backward glance.

Son of a bitch.

I quickly gather my stuff and spring out of the tree after her, managing not to completely fall on my face as I hit the ground. Katniss picks up her pace and darts deeper into the forest, weaving between trees like a deer. Just like yesterday, I run after her.

"Katniss!" I call out, my feet trying to navigate the constantly uneven ground.

She doesn't answer and keeps running, getting further and further away. I put on another burst of speed and use my longer stride to my advantage. I'm not sure what she's up to, but I'm not losing another friend without at least figuring out why. The gap between us starts to narrow a bit. No matter how fast Katniss may be, I've got longer legs and better training. They used to make us run miles at a time back at the academy and no hunting escapades into the District Twelve forests can compensate for that.

Katniss disappears over one of the small rises scattered around this area of the forest. The arena almost seems like one big valley, sloping down to the cornucopia before rising toward the lonely mountain on the other side. I clamber over the rise and pause, seeing nothing but trees. Now where did she go? She couldn't have run out of sight already. I walk down among the grove, looking for tracks or some sign of my friend.

I never saw what she hit me with. All I know was that it was hard and that she smashed that hard object into the back of my skull with enough force to rattle my teeth. I collapsed onto the ground with a groan, my head feeling like it was tightening around itself, my pulse pounding like a hammer. I roll over and, like the time Cato hit me, I see three shaky outlines of Katniss standing over me. All look pissed.

"What the hell was that for?" I ask, focusing on the Katniss in the middle.

"What are you doing? Can't you tell I don't want to be followed?" she asks, her bow slung over her shoulder.

I put my hand on the back of my head, feeling the beginnings of a lump and a small amount of blood. "Where were you going?" I ask, wincing as I touch a particularly tender spot.

A little bit of the anger slips off Katniss' face and she sighs deeply. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm just leaving," she says.

My mind drifts back over the past few days and everything gets muddled. I almost wish she still acted like she hated me. At least then I'd have some consistency.

"But why?" I ask.

Katniss takes a deep breath, obviously holding in some obscenities before answering. "Why do think? Haven't you noticed what's going on? There's only seven tributes left," she says.

I pause for a moment, reality crashing into me like one of the Capitol's trains. The Games are indeed winding down and the probability of us having to fight each other is only increasing. Still, I don't want to fight her.

"So you don't want to be allies anymore," I say, wearily hauling myself to my feet with the help of my spear.

"It's not about what I want. It's just how it is. There can only be one victor," she says, her voice tinged with resignation.

God, I hate that rule so much. One victor. Twenty-three have to die for one to live. From the beginning, it was working against everyone I gave a damn about in this arena. Brooke, Rue…Katniss. They shouldn't get to do this to us, to force us to kill people we care about. Katniss, however, seems to accept it and I can feel my bitterness rising.

"That's just how it is, huh?" I say, looking at her blankly. She must sense some anger in my voice and looks uneasy, but nods nonetheless. "So why don't you kill me now?"

"What?" Katniss asks incredulously.

"Well, you said it yourself. There can only be one victor and I'm one of six people that needs to be disposed of for it to be you," I say, noticing Katniss take an uneasy step back, "If you really want to win, the smart thing would be to kill me now and save yourself a lot of trouble."

Katniss' bow stays on her shoulder and I can see the conflict playing out in her silver eyes.

"You already missed one opportunity. You could've just slit my throat in my sleep. That would've been a lot easier than this," I sneer, "So why didn't you?"

"Because I didn't want to!" Katniss fires back.

"Why the hell not? You seem pretty accepting of my fate," I press.

"Y'know most people wouldn't be so upset about not being killed!" Katniss retorts, eyes narrowing in anger.

"Most people would behave with some consistency!" I snap.

"What?" Katniss asks, not following my tangent.

I don't stop. This confusion has been building for far too long and I need to expel it. "I am so tired of you fucking with my head," I say, running a hand through my shaggy hair, "It's been eating at me for days."

"I never fucked with your head. Maybe that's just what your career training does to you," Katniss says, trying to hurt me.

I narrow my eyes at the career comment but let it go. "Really? You say you've never fucked with my head? All you've done is fuck with my head! One minute you're threatening to kill me, the next you're my ally. One minute you want to be alone, the next you're sleeping next to me. One minute you're trying to knock me unconscious, the next you're saying you never wanted to kill me. Can you understand how that might be confusing!?" I shout. I didn't even mention the fact that we kissed.

"What do you want me to say?" Katniss asks.

"I want you to admit whether or not you've been manipulating me all this time!" I say.

"I never manipulated you!" she shouts, now seething.

"Then how do you explain all that shit?! Good god, how do you explain the fact that we kissed!" I fire back, angry and wanting a direct answer more than anything else in the world.

"Why do you care so much?!" she retorts.

"Because I care about you!" I shout back.

Katniss doesn't answer but stares at me, wide eyed. The forest has gone completely silent around us. Not even the breeze makes a sound. It's then that I notice my clenched jaw and furious breathing. In spite of my anger, I feel better, like those five words were some poison that my body needed to purge.

"What do you mean?" Katniss asks quietly, almost like she doesn't want to ask but needs to know.

I sigh, trying to find the right words. "I…I care about you, Katniss. I care about you way more than I should, especially in here," I eventually say. It's not much, but it's the best I can do.

Katniss seems to get it because she looks away, avoiding my gaze. "Oh," she says before silence closes around us both.

"When did it start?" Katniss asks, looking up. "When did you start to feel that way?"

"I dunno. I always noticed you, but…I guess it just kept building the more time we spent together," I say, rubbing my chin and trying to pin down when my feelings for Katniss started.

Katniss doesn't answer and just looks tired. "Look, I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have dumped that on you. I understand if you want to leave," I say.

"You're so dumb," Katniss mutters so quietly I almost don't catch it.

"What?" I ask.

"I said you're so dumb. Weren't you listening earlier? I don't _want_ to leave. It's just how the Games are. You've been a good ally and…" Katniss trails off.

"And what?" I ask.

Katniss sighs before meeting my gaze, sharp silver eyes piercing my green ones. "And I know how you feel. I…I care about you, too."

My eyes widen and it feels like my heart actually swells at her words. It feels great to know that I'm not the only person who's gone crazy in here.

"But it doesn't matter. Only one of us can come out of this thing," Katniss finishes.

My euphoria crashes back down to earth like a malfunctioning hovercraft, shot down by cold, unfeeling reality. I grit my teeth behind my lips, wishing I had one of the gamemakers or, better yet, President Snow with me right now. I'd love to show him exactly what I think of that fucking rule.

"The longer we're allies, the bigger the chance of us having to kill each other. There's only a few enemies left. After that, we'll have to face our friends," Katniss says sadly.

It's true, as much as it pains me to admit it. My last friend has to leave soon, even though I know I'd never hurt her, just like I'd never have hurt Rue or Brooke. Five other tributes left and only three of them are actually dangerous. Then a realization hits me.

"Wait, I thought of something," I say.

"What?" Katniss asks.

"There's seven of us left right?" I ask.

"Yeah…" Katniss says, arching an eyebrow.

"I've watched a lot of film of the Hunger Games and this is usually the point when the gamemakers throw a feast, drawing us all in for some action," I say, recalling hours and hours of studying footage back at the Academy. Feasts are almost a constant in the Games. I can only recall a few years without them and those Games all ended quickly.

"Yeah. So what?" Katniss responds.

"Well, I'd feel a lot better about taking Cato, Clove and Thresh on if you were by my side," I say with a grin.

"You want to keep working together?" Katniss asks, looking skeptical.

"Just until after the feast," I say, "I think we'd both stand a much better chance of coming outta that in one piece if we work together."

Katniss mulls it over silently and my mind drifts back to the rooftop, where I first tried to convince her to be my ally with a lame sales-pitch. If not for the constant threat of death in this arena, I'd probably laugh. I might even revel in the nostalgia of better days, if only I could afford to.

"Just until after the feast?" Katniss says.

"Just until after the speech," I say, raising my right hand like I'm pledging allegiance to the flag of Panem.

"Okay," Katniss says, "We'll keep this going until after the feast. Then…we've gotta go our separate ways."

The last part hurts, but I ignore it, knowing its inevitability. My vision fogs a bit and I shake my head to clear it. The back of my skull is still throbbing, but I try to smile. At least my friend is staying a bit longer.

Katniss notices it and heads over, looking a bit guilty. "Here," she says, "Let me help you with that."

* * *

We spend the rest of the day gathering food. Katniss takes down a couple of the dumb birds Rue remembered from District Eleven. One of my snares adds a rabbit and I even manage to find a few wild onions. Holding them, I can't help but smile at the bittersweet memories, recalling my friend and what I promised, what Katniss and I both promised. Clove and Cato cannot win. I won't allow it.

We wait until dusk to make the fire, just to be safe. It feels a bit unnecessary with only three other dangerous tributes still out there. Hell, I doubt Thresh would take on two armed, deadly tributes on at once. Only Cato and Clove would have the gall to do that and, with Cato still not completely healed, I think it'd be anyone's fight. By Hunger Games standards, the food is excellent, warm and filling. I roast my rabbit leg over the fire as long as possible, savoring the crisp, nearly burnt meat. Katniss pulls a face as I let out a groan of satisfaction.

"I still can't believe you like it like that," she says with a slight chuckle.

"When someone else says it's nearly burnt, that's when I say it's perfect," I respond, taking another bite and groaning obnoxiously.

Katniss throws one of her bones at me, but, thanks to Rue's regular barrages, I dodge it easily. I respond by stealthily picking up one of the sticky rabbit bones lying beside the coals of our fire and throwing it back. It takes my friend completely by surprise, bouncing off her forehead and leaving her looking stunned. As I begin to laugh, I see her eyebrows narrow and her hand close around a small rock.

It goes that way for a while, laughing and trying our best to hit the other with whatever non-lethal projectile we can get ahold of. It'd probably be better to be silent and vigilant, watchful for whatever dangers may come our way. But I need this. This is the first time I've had fun in a long time. I've been lost in my own head for far too long, thinking nonstop about every possibility.

We sit beneath a large sycamore tree after night has fallen. The anthem plays and no face appear.

"Slow day," Katniss says.

"Yeah, I'd bet my spear that the feast will come in the next day or so," I comment, watching the vacant spot in the sky where the Capitol's seal had been.

The feast. I wish it'd stay farther away. But it will come, just like the Games did no matter how much I wished they would stay away. After that, I'll probably never see Katniss again…at least I hope I won't. If we see each other after that, it will probably be to fight.

"You think they'll all go?" I ask.

"To what?"

"The feast."

Katniss pauses for a moment, thinking. "Cato and Clove will be there for sure. Thresh probably will too, although I haven't seen him since the bloodbath."

"As far as I know, he's still in that field behind the cornucopia," I say.

"As for Foxface and Peeta, I have no idea," Katniss finishes.

"Foxface?" I say with a smirk.

"I never learned her name," Katniss says with a shrug.

"Me neither. I just remembered her as that ginger girl from Five," I say with a chuckle, "Although she does kinda look like a fox."

Katniss chuckles in return and for a moment there's quiet. I hear crickets chirping off in the darkness. Hopefully they're not bloodthirsty mutant crickets.

"I wonder what she's like," Katniss says to nobody in particular.

"Who?"

"Foxface"

I shrug. "I dunno. I suppose we'll never know."

"Sometimes I wonder what all the other tributes were like, even the dead ones," Katniss says softly.

"I get that. I've wondered what would have happened if we all could've known each other outside the Hunger Games. Maybe we all could've been friends," I say.

Katniss laughs a bit. "Somehow I don't think Cato and Clove would come around."

"Okay, maybe not them," I concede, "But with others, I think anything's possible."

Katniss is silent for a moment. "It certainly worked with us and Rue," she says quietly.

Sadness settles around us, pressing all its weight onto our shoulders, trying to make us fold in on ourselves. Whatever isn't pressing us into us is hanging in surrounding air like a persistent fog. In the sad darkness, Rue's ghost has become infinitely more real, still jumping through the trees above our heads, whistling her mockingjay tunes. I take calming breath before continuing.

"It did. It really did," I say looking at my hands, "But that's what I mean. Before the Games, before I met you and Rue, I never would've thought I could be friends with people from the outer districts. Everything just seemed too different."

"And now?" Katniss asks.

"And now I know that's just a bunch of bullshit. Me, you, Rue, the others. We're all just people, way more similar than we are different. We're all stuck in here, trying to survive. The only real difference is the distribution of food," I say.

Katniss nods in agreement and purses her lips. "I think they want us to think we're all different, too different to ever work together."

"I think we've managed to disprove that," I say with a grin that Katniss returns.

"Have you ever wondered what might happen if we all just didn't go along with it?" Katniss asks.

"Go along with it?" I question, somehow sensing something ominous in Katniss' tone.

Whatever it is, must be dangerous because Katniss leans in to whisper in my ear, where the Capitol can't hear the dangerous words slip from her mouth like poison. "I mean what if we all just didn't kill each other? What would they do then?"

I look at her, arching an eyebrow before whispering in her ear. "They'd probably just blow us all up or sic the mutts on us," I answer, bitterly recalling how the gamemakers hold our lives in the palms of their hands, so powerful they can squash us for having disagreeable conversations. Hell, this conversation alone is about as safe as tap dancing through a minefield.

"They have to have a victor," Katniss whispers, "Somebody has to be left standing or else there'd be chaos. Could you imagine a Hunger Games without a victor?"

I can't because it's never happened. The Hunger Games always has a victor and the tributes always kill each other. Always. There's hardly ever any hesitation. Every now and then you'll get a bleeding heart tribute that piously refuses, but they never make it past the first day. If you want to make it, you have to be willing to take a life, to give up a piece of yourself.

"No, I can't," I whisper back, "But it's too late for all that anyway. Cato and Clove practically lust after death and I doubt Thresh will be converted at the last moment."

Katniss sighs, probably knowing the truth in my word, and leans back, away from ear. I can't deny that I miss the close proximity.

"Besides, don't you want to see your sister again?" I ask.

Katniss looks pained and meets my gaze. "Don't you want to see your brother again?"

I look away and watch the stars again. "Only one of us will ever go home again," I say, feeling the sadness tightening around us with its infinite strength. This time, it isn't letting go.

* * *

I don't know when we fell asleep. All I know is that we did, once again next to each other. The familiar peace that it always gave me, the nightmares it always denied, was scattered just before dawn by the sound of the anthem thundering across the arena.

"What's going on?" I mumble, automatically reaching for my spear.

"Some big, big news," Katniss mutters, eyes suddenly sharp as talons and alert.

"Attention Tributes!" booms Claudius Templesmith's voice, making its first appearance since the start of the Games, "We have an important announcement. For the first time in Hunger Games history, there has been a rule change."

A rule change? It's the Hunger Games. There are no rules aside from kill each other and last person still sucking air wins.

"The previous rule allowing for only one victor has been…amended. Two victors, a male and a female one, will now be permitted. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor," Claudius finishes, immediately replaced by the sounds of the forest.

This can't be real. This has to be a dream. My face breaks out into a grin as I turn towards Katniss, who looks as happy and elated as me.

"We can both win!" I say excitedly, "We can both go home!"

We both laugh purely, a laughter of genuine happiness, unmarred by hidden intention or sarcasm or bitterness. Before I know it, we've embraced each other in a hug and I savor the feeling of Katniss' body pressed into mine. Maybe things can work out for me. Maybe the audience really liked the idea of our friendship, and possibly something more, blossoming. Anything and everything is possible now.

"I can't believe it," I say, ecstatic beyond all reason, especially with a lot of Hunger Games still to play.

"Me neither," Katniss mumbles into my chest before laughing again.

I close my eyes and chuckle. "Everything's gonna work out now. I just know it," I say, feeling the steady rhythm of Katniss' heartbeat against my own. They are synchronized.

Suddenly, I feel Katniss force herself out of my arms. I open my eyes to see her stepping away, looking like she's just been shot. All the happiness on her face moments ago has been stripped away, leaving only a horrified foundation.

"What?" I ask, arching an eyebrow and chuckling nervously.

Then she says one word that strips my face of all happiness as well.

"Peeta."

* * *

 **A/N: These poor kids cannot catch a break. There's nothing harder in the Hunger Games than actually caring about another tribute. Decisions must be made and each one will have consequences for our hero.**


	22. Three's a Crowd

One word. Two syllables. Five letters, each one like a successive slap in the face. Peeta. Fucking Peeta. Katniss' acquaintance, wannabe boyfriend and, most importantly, her district partner, the one person you can never turn on if you want to show your face in your home district again. The one person who could basically drop a nuclear bomb on all my hopes.

"He's my district partner…" Katniss says, "I can't just…I can't just turn on him."

I merely nod. I feel like somebody punched me in the stomach. A second ago, everything seemed perfect, a dream suddenly seemed reachable. It was so close I could practically feel it between my fingers. And now that dream is broken beyond repair, yanked away at the last moment and crushed under the Capitol's boot like everything else.

"Marvel, I-I'm sorry," Katniss says, placing a hand on my arm, "Maybe you could still work with us…at least until after the feast?"

I meet her gaze, seeing my pain reflected across the shining silver I've grown to love so much. I sigh wearily and step back, feeling Katniss' arm slide off and hang limply at her side.

"I don't think that's a very good idea," I say, feeling the words attempting to choke themselves in my throat, "Three's a crowd…especially now."

Katniss' face falls and she stands there awkwardly for a moment. She opens her mouth to say something, but stops and remains silent. My gaze drifts out to through the woods again, looking at but not seeing the endless trees. All I want to do is say Yes and that I'd love to work with her as long as I possibly can…but I know it can't be that way. Off in the distance, I do spot a mockingjay perched on a branch, but it's too far to hear its music.

"You should probably go find him," I finally say, avoiding Katniss gaze. If I look at her again, I may lose my nerve.

Katniss hesitates for a moment before she sighs, shoulders slumping. "Take care of yourself," she says sadly. I don't look, but I hear her turn and walk away, her soft footsteps moving across the forest floor, off in search of the person the Capitol wants her to be with.

"Katniss!" I shout, suddenly remembering Peeta's injury.

I look up and see Katniss turn around about twenty feet away.

"Yeah?" she asks.

"Cato cut Peeta's leg pretty badly. You'll probably need to treat him," I say.

Katniss nods and, with one melancholy gaze back in my direction, turns and disappears into the distance, swallowed up by the trees. Everything in me scream to go after her, find her and convince her to stay with me and be my ally, my friend. But I can't. Nobody can betray their district partner. It's just how things are. This time, there is no last minute convincing. I have to let her go and it hurts worse than any injury I've sustained in here.

* * *

I begin walking and I don't stop. I walk aimlessly, in search of nothing. At this point, I've got nothing. I have nobody to search for, no friends left, no supplies to destroy. All there is to do now is wait and kill any enemies I come across. Time slips away as I walk, as far from me now as District One. It has no bearing on anything I do. Strangely, all feeling is gone. All my fatigue, my hunger, my thirst, my longings have all vanished and I move like a zombie, wandering across the arena in search of something to kill.

I don't notice the whole day has gone by until I spot the sun slipping behind the unending wall of trees that is the arena. I wonder if Katniss found Peeta? It's a big arena so maybe not. Finding anyone would be hard, much less someone who's been injured for about a week and is probably lying low. I still can't believe that jackass is still hanging around. I should've let Cato kill him.

Whoa, wait. Where did that thought come from? Peeta hasn't been my favorite and I was inclined to killing him when I thought he was betraying Katniss, but now? He was just trying to protect her and he's been in hiding for a while. Is him taking Katniss away from me really enough for me to want him dead? He doesn't really deserve it and yet I can't deny that it's a seductive idea. Is this what the Games do to you? I thought I was being vigilant, but are they seeping into my thinking? Altering my mind?

I shake the concerns off. Nobody's gonna make me kill Peeta. He's no threat and Cato, Clove, Thresh or mother nature will probably do it for me. I try to think back to Brooke and Rue and even Ava, the deaths that affected me most. I can't give in. I have to ignore that pull, that voice in mind telling me to let go and kill anyone I desire; the voice that whispers seductively and gets louder as the end of the Games approaches. I think of my mother and how she'd feel if I gave in. I think of my father and the disappointment that'd cross his weathered face. I think of Striker and how his green eyes, the same eyes I have, would widen in horror at what his big brother was doing. I can't allow myself to go down into that place. If I do, I don't know if I'll ever come back.

I suppose I'll have to find a new place to stay. I begin walking again. I think I'm heading in the direction of the river, but with so many trees that all look exactly the same, there's no way to be sure. The wind is at my back, sifting through the trees like grains of sand and pushing me forward. The area seems to have this vague familiarity.

Then I see it, a crystal clear pond of water just below a slight rise of limestone. It all comes back to me, the nice spot I was sitting at right before Katniss blew up the pyramid of supplies. I venture forward. Upon closer examination, it's a little bit more than a rise, it's a bit of an overhang. The spring water is as cool and fresh as I remembered and I drink a full bottle before I feel even remotely satisfied. As I refill, I begin to wonder what I should do. There's almost nobody left and even fewer who'd actually want a fight. I can always count on Cato and Clove for that, but as long as I'm alone and they're together, I'll try to avoid them. Thresh is a big threat but there's no way I'm going after him in that wheat field. The girl from Five seems to have spent most of the game hiding. She's not a problem.

But what about Katniss and Peeta? Peeta's easier. He's kinda like the girl from Five, although I can't deny the tiny fragment of animosity I have for him. He's no threat, especially with that bum leg of his, and I won't need to kill him unless we're the final tributes left. Katniss is a different story. Unlike Cato and Clove, who've been made infinitely more dangerous by the fact that they no longer have to compete with each other, Katniss is probably being dragged down by the new rule change. Instead of a sturdy ally, she's got someone who needs her protection. I can't help but frown at that thought. I certainly wouldn't require her protection. We'd probably be able to kick some serious ass.

I still don't quite know what to do about her. I know her well enough to know that she's going to do everything she possibly can to save Peeta's life. That's just the kind of person she is. I still don't doubt that she's got it in her to kill me if push comes to shove. But can she really vanquish the five remaining tributes, four of whom scored a ten in training. I may be hesitant to hurt her, but I doubt the other three are. Every instinct tells me not to kill Katniss, but what about my family? The whole reason I got into this mess was to win, to give them a better life. How can I let them down like that? But what would they want? Would they want me to come home by any means necessary or would they rather I hold onto who I was, someone who wouldn't kill their friends?

If I had to guess, I'd say they just want me to come home. They'd probably forgive me…but I doubt things could ever be the same. With every glance, it'd be there, the knowledge of what I had done to get to the top...and I'm not sure I could bear that. Along with that, the knowledge that I killed Katniss would always be there, gnawing at the back of my mind like a termite destroying the foundation of a house. It'd only be a matter of time before it collapsed.

I lean my pack and my spear up against the limestone. The sun is falling behind me, throwing its remaining light over the pond. I can spot my shadow stretching out ahead, as lanky as the shadows of the trees beside it. I lift up my shirt and inspect myself, counting the scars I've accumulated since the Games started. I spot Cato's slash wound, now healed, and the marks of claws and teeth that make me shudder. I notice other changes in my body too.

I was always thin, but it's getting worse. Whatever muscle I used to have has vanished, leaving my ribs and other bones clearly visible. Whenever I look into the pond, I'm startled by my reflection. My cheek bones look sharper than ever, my eyes sunken and skin pallid. I look like a walking skeleton. Thank god for my belt because I doubt my pants would stay up anymore without it. If I get out of here alive, first thing I'm doing is sitting down to a feast. If the Capitol is going to put me through all this, they better at least feed me afterwards.

* * *

The pond and the overhang prove to be better shelter than I ever could've anticipated. As I suspected, the water is spring-fed and pure. It doesn't even require iodine or boiling to drink. Off to the left side of the overhang, I pushed back some brush to find a small cave about the size of the shower stalls back in the Academy. It's not much, but it's dry, warm and not exposed to mutts or other tributes. The brush acts like a curtain, completely concealing the opening from the outside.

It's been two days since Katniss and I went our separate ways. I don't know if she's found Peeta or not. Even if they're looking for each other, this arena is huge and finding one person is next to impossible…unless the gamemakers want two tributes to find each other. Thinking back on the rule change, it seems like it was designed specifically for Katniss and Peeta. I guess the star-crossed lovers angle was just too enticing for the Capitol. As if us killing each other isn't dramatic enough, they feel the need to throw in some romantic tension as well.

I wish I could say that I didn't miss Katniss, that everything that happened was for the best, that her choosing Peeta over me didn't hurt like hell. I can't though. I miss her. I miss having someone to watch my back and having someone's back to watch myself. I miss her unshakeable conviction. But most of all, I just miss having her around. I miss her as my friend and possibly as something more.

I need to focus on something else. I'm getting too caught up in the impossible, thinking about fantastic scenarios where everything works out and Katniss and I both get out of this thing alive. I've got bigger problems right now. I'm almost out of food. Aside from an errant rabbit that strayed too close to the pond and few roots I dug up, I haven't eaten anything the past few days. I've got plenty of water, but it's not drawing in as many animals as I thought it would.

Maybe that gamemakers are doing that. The Games are almost over and the hungrier we are, the more desperate we'll be, the more risks we'll take for food. And when we finally have it, we'll fight even harder for it. Everything else about us is gradually getting shut down as our bodies go into the ultimate survival mode. We're all so close to going home but the hardest part of the Games is still to come.

By nightfall, the only thing I've managed to find is a wild onion. I nibble at it like a squirrel, trying to prolong the sensation of eating. It does virtually nothing to fill my cavernous stomach, but the flavor is nice nonetheless. I sit out under the overhang, watching the last vestiges of light slip away. My spear sits beside like a good friend always ready to lend a hand. I've even still got my fire-starter knife in my boot. You can't afford to be unprepared in here, even when there's nobody left.

I sit there for a while, listening to everything but the rumbling in my stomach. Every now and then, I'll hear a bird call and mockingjays mimicking it soon afterward. It makes me think of Rue and how she's not here. Hopefully she's somewhere much better than here.

The sound of the anthem draws my attention as quickly as it loses it. There's been no cannons the past few days. No faces appear after the seal, confirming that everyone's hung in there another day. I finish my onion and am about to turn in for the night when I hear the familiar voice of Claudius Templesmith.

"Attention Tributes!" he booms, silencing everything else in the forest.

What is it now?

"Congratulations on making it to the Final Seven! You've all fought hard to get here and, as a reward, we are inviting you to a feast. Be at the Cornucopia at dawn tomorrow to claim your spoils," he says.

A feast! My mind is instantly overrun with images of desperately needed food…but should I go? I need food, but is it really worth risking a fight with Cato or Thresh?

"Now hold on. Some of you may already be declining this invitation," says Claudius, seemingly reading my mind, "But this is no ordinary feast. Each of you needs something _desperately_."

Yeah, food.

"Each of you will find that something in a backpack, marked with your district number, at the Cornucopia. And to make things more interesting, one of you will be given special advantage," says Claudius mysteriously.

A special advantage? A million different possibilities flood into my mind. Some type of superweapon? Impenetrable armor? Capitol stimulants?

"Think hard about refusing to show up. For some of you, this will be your last chance," Claudius says ominously.

Silence follows, hanging over me like an axe. My last chance? He makes it sound like no more food is coming my way. Can the gamemakers control that? I know they can control the animals but can they really remove all edible plants from the area. What am I saying? They're the gamemakers. They can and will do anything they want.

Still, I don't like the sound of this feast. There's no way Cato, Clove or Thresh will miss it, already guaranteeing a hell of a fight. And Katniss? That may be the ultimate danger, someone who can distract me and make me hesitate. Still, there may not be another chance to get food and if I don't get some soon, I won't stand any chance by the time the finale comes. And what about that special advantage? Something about it seems off. Whenever the Capitol offers something like that, it's usually too good to be true. Like the glories of being a victor, I suspect that advantage will come with strings attached…but what exactly? Can I risk Thresh or District Two getting their hands on it? They're huge threats now. What will they become if they get ahold of whatever's gonna be at the Cornucopia?

No, that can't happen. There's no other option. I have to go tomorrow, whatever the cost.

* * *

 **A/N: A bit of a slow chapter, but that's just because there's a big one inbound. Battle lines have been drawn and the chances of friends having to fight each other are only going up, especially with some desperately needed resources up for grabs. Who will live? Who will die? Who will find the next wild onion? Stay tuned**


	23. Metamorphosis

Strangely, no dreams come. Before I went to bed, nestled my little den behind the cover of the brush, the only thing on my mind was the feast, particularly those I'd be seeing there. I saw Cato's enraged fury, the same look he had when I betrayed him. I saw Clove's dark unnerving eyes, peering at me like I'm something to dissect. I saw Thresh's tightened jaw and hard granite features, as stoic as a statue. I also saw Katniss, her silver eyes and hesitant smiles, like she knew all happiness is temporary, something the Capitol just hasn't fucked up for you yet. In a way, I suppose she was right, but I still enjoyed them. I enjoyed every time she smiled at me.

Those were the last thoughts I could recollect. As my eyes snap open, I find myself in the den I fell asleep in, my spear still by my side and my pack functioning as a pillow. Without looking out, I know it's early. There's not a single ray of sunshine sifting in through the small gaps in the brush. I sit up wearily, feeling my hunger more than ever.

I silently gather my stuff. I need that pack. What could it have in it other than food? There's nothing else I need so desperately. I'm hanging in there, but at this rate I won't have any strength left for the finale…unless that special advantage changes everything. Maybe it's some Capitol concoction that'll eliminate the hunger of whoever consumes it. Or maybe that's just wishful thinking. Whatever it is, it's probably something really violent and really entertaining. The Capitol audience would expect nothing less.

I slither out of my den like a snake. As I suspected, it's completely dark outside. Judging by the position of the moon, I'd say it's about two hours 'til dawn. The moonlight is limited, giving only outlines of the forest. I can see the tree outlines but not their bark. I can see the thin silhouettes of branches but not the veins of the leaves on them. Everything is darker, more mysterious. And it makes me uneasy. As if this place wasn't creepy enough.

I move silently, remembering my training. I shift my weight with each step and avoid stomping or rustling dead leaves. My eyes swivel in each direction, searching for mutts or tributes or whatever else the gamemakers might send my way. I take a longer route to the Cornucopia. I could just follow the river, but I really don't want to be near that place in the dark. I actually don't want to be near that place period, where every drink of water risks a run-in with one of those mutts.

I keep my spear pointed out as I near the clearing, gingerly pushing the brush aside. Across an ocean of short grass sits the Cornucopia, glowing eerily in the moonlight. I've never seen it so vacant, so still. From the start of the Games, this was a dangerous place, going from the bloodbath to the career-base. It's so quiet now, but not a good quiet. Not the quiet that promises rest and peace. The quiet that promises a good night's sleep or time with someone you love. This quiet is ominous, foreboding, like the silence in a dark hallway at night just after you've asked if anyone's there.

I can feel myself shivering and I pull my jacket tighter. Dawn's at least an hour away, if not more, and there's a chill hanging in the air. I can't help but wonder if the others are already here, hanging back just like I am and waiting to make their move.

I don't quite know what my plan is yet. There's no sign of the backpacks so I assume the gamemakers will drop them off at dawn. But what do I do when that happens? If I rush in there immediately, I'll be an easy target, not exactly a great option with opponents like Clove and possibly Katniss who are good with distance weapons. On the other hand, if I hesitate I could easily lose my pack and all my desperately needed food. Not to mention the special advantage that's apparently going to shift everything.

I simply sit down behind a group of bushes, right at the edge of the clearing. If I know Cato and Clove (and I do), they'll work as a team to get their packs, especially now that they can both go home. The could go in as a pair and take whatever they want. Even Thresh would probably be hesitant to engage them both at the same time. Or maybe they'd rather take down the big threats than get supplies. If just one went in, it might draw Katniss or Thresh out. Then the other could come in and they'd have their opponent in a box.

There isn't a doubt in my mind that Katniss, Cato, Clove and Thresh will be here. None of them are cowards and they all must need something desperately. Peeta and the girl from Five are the wildcards. I haven't seen any sign of the girl since the bloodbath. Given her size, I suspect she's been hiding, avoiding confrontation at all costs. This doesn't seem like her thing but maybe desperation will force her here. I highly doubt Peeta's even capable of coming here. That slash wound looked nasty when it happened. I can't even imagine what it looks like now, especially since District Twelve can't afford the fancy medicine or treatments like District Two.

They've probably conducted the interviews by now. It's funny, but it never even crossed my mind. Technically, they're supposed to do it for the final eight tributes…but with Rue's death coming only a few minutes after Lewis', they probably just conducted seven. I think of my family. How did they handle it? What do they really think of how I've been doing? I hope I haven't disappointed them. I hope I haven't scared them. Most of all, I hope I haven't hurt them.

I wonder how Katniss' family handled it? The way she described Prim, she sounds kinda shy and her mother…well Katniss didn't sound like she had a lot of confidence in her capabilities. Unexpectedly, my mind drifts to the other tributes families. They must have them, even Cato and Clove. Somebody out there loves them and is praying for their safe return as they watch each excruciating second of the Games.

I shake my head to clear the confusion. I can't afford to be having those thoughts, not when I'm going to have to fight those tributes in a matter of minutes. Slowly but surely, the darkness begins to slip away. I almost wish it wouldn't. It's true at this moment that I'm hungry, tired and far from home…but at least I'm alive. An hour from now, that might not be true. Finally, the first rays of sunlight clear the tree-line, shining on the mountain far across the arena and spreading softly over the Cornucopia. The eeriness is gone. Now, it looks golden, like an enticing idol, one that's probably rigged with booby traps.

Suddenly, the ground in front of the Cornucopia parts and a table adorned with a fine white cloth and six backpacks rises. Three of the backpacks are large, two red ones sporting a two and a dark blue one marked with an eleven. There's two average sized ones beside them, a green one marked with a five and a bright yellow pack marked with a one.

Mine.

A tiny orange pack marked with a twelve sits beside. Odd. I thought there'd be two, one for Katniss and one for Peeta. Cato and Clove each got one.

My train of thought is derailed a moment later when the girl from District Five rushes out of the Cornucopia and seizes the green backpack. I'm still sitting there dumbfounded as she throws it over her shoulder and sprints out of the clearing.

Clever girl.

Now that was ballsy; hiding in the Cornucopia itself and getting the jump on everybody. We're all hanging back, trying to gauge the situation and she just went for it and got her pack without even getting a scratch. I'm jealous…and surprised. I knew she was smart but that was impressive.

Everything in me screams to go get my pack. It's probably food in there and I need it. If I don't get it someone else will. But what about the special advantage? Where's that?

I'm still running my eyes over the Cornucopia in search of the advantage when I spot Katniss sprinting from her hiding spot farther down the tree line. A second later, Clove jumps in, running after her. I look around for any sign of Cato. There's none and with Clove distracted this might be my chance.

I ready my spear and burst into the clearing, denying the urge to look towards Katniss. I can't get distracted, not now. The consequences are too severe.

I keep my eyes on the table, where the yellow backpack with the one still sits. I put on a burst of speed and close in, feeling the silent breeze blowing by me, just like when I first ran towards the Cornucopia roughly two weeks ago.

I'm about ten feet from my pack when a gargantuan nightmare emerges from behind the Cornucopia.

Thresh…and he looks bigger and angrier than ever before.

You'd think border-line starvation would slim the guy down, but no. He's huge. I can't tell if he's actually gotten bigger or if I've just wasted away that much. Right now, I'm a sapling and he's a mighty oak.

He pauses when he sees me, his face contorting itself into a look of rage. He immediately goes for the machete hanging from his belt and I raise my spear. In a second, he rushes me.

I jump out of the way like a matador, avoiding contact with the enraged giant. If he knocks me down, I'm dead. I gotta stay up. I gotta make him use something other than his size.

Thresh takes a wild swing with his machete that I easily dodge. I take a stab at him with my spear that misses, but not by much. He may be bigger but he's definitely slower.

We circle each other like a pair of wild animals. Thresh attacks with new energy, taking multiple swings with the machete. I roll under one that nearly catches my throat and smash my fist across Thresh's face. He staggers back as pain spreads across my knuckles. He turns back, blood trickling from his mouth and attacks again.

Okay, maybe Thresh isn't slow. His swings have a new speed I can barely keep up with. He takes a slash at my stomach that I barely avoid, the fabric of my jacket still getting shredded in the process. I catch the next on the hilt of my spear, but the force is still enough to send me staggering backwards.

I'm about to counterattack when something grabs my attention, a cry of pain in a very familiar voice. I look over to see Katniss trapped beneath Clove, who's holding a wickedly sharp knife to her face.

It's only a second, but it's the opening Thresh needs. His hulking frame crashes into me, driving me into the ground and knocking the wind from me. My head snaps back when I hit the ground, blurring my vision. I can just make out the hulking form of Thresh standing over me, machete raised.

Oh shit.

I react on instinct. My hands somehow find my spear and I bring the hilt up to block the swing. To my horror, Thresh's blow completely snaps the hilt, destroying my spear. He delivers a thunderous blow to the top of my face that leaves everything spinning. The shards of my spear are yanked from my hands and I'm left defenseless.

I can't believe it. This is it. I'm really gonna die. I've got no allies to save me this time, nobody to intervene and bail me out. I think of my family. I hope Striker doesn't have to see. The only positive is that Thresh doesn't seem like the type to torture anyone.

Snippets of conversation from Katniss and Clove drift over. Katniss. I let her distract me…and now it's all over. We're both gonna die. I guess neither of us could keep our promises.

My foggy mind can just distinguish Thresh raising the machete to deliver the killing blow. I want to shut my eyes but can't. My mind isn't right. Just as the machete begins to come down, I catch the utterance of a familiar name: Rue.

No killing blow comes. Did I imagine it? Thresh freezes in place, looking furious. But he's not looking at me. He's looking towards Katniss and Clove. Are they talking about Rue?

If they are, it doesn't matter. My mind clears and I don't hesitate. I yank my knife out of my boot and drive it into Thresh's stomach. He lets out an anguished cry and staggers backward, somehow staying on his feet even as the blood begins seeping out of his wound.

I don't look back at Thresh. I find myself sprinting towards Katniss, who's still trapped beneath Clove. I curl my fist and point all my momentum towards the District Two girl. She turns just in time to catch my fist across her face. Blood and a few teeth go spurting out on contact as Clove is knocked off Katniss like a rag doll. Before she can get up, I drive my knife into her chest wildly, drawing a hideous screech of pain from the usually composed girl and leaving her writhing on the ground. Katniss looks up at me, stunned, with a tiny stream of blood trickling from her mouth.

"For old time's sake," I say.

Katniss nods and jumps to her feet. I leave Clove lying on the ground and hurry towards the table. Katniss, who must've already grabbed her pack, takes off. The second my hands hit the white tablecloth, I throw the yellow backpack over my shoulder, feeling its beautiful weight. More weight means more food.

I turn back to see a surprising sight. Clove is crawling across the ground, either still fuzzy from my blow or going into shock from her knife wound, desperately trying to escape a bleeding Thresh, who's advancing towards her, one hand on his gut wound and his machete in the other.

"Clove!" I hear another familiar voice call.

Cato. I can just spot him emerging from the forest. What the hell was he doing? Chasing Katniss? Thresh hesitates and looks toward the District Two boy surging towards him, evidently weighing his options.

Then it happens, a trumpet booms across the arena and everybody pauses. I pause, standing dumbfounded by the table. Cato pauses, stopping halfway between the Cornucopia and the tree line. Thresh pauses, machete still in hand and bleeding constantly. Even Clove stops crawling, her confused gaze bouncing in all directions.

On the top of the Cornucopia, at the tail end of the golden horn, the metal parts and fog comes pouring out, followed by a neon green syringe.

The special advantage.

Thresh looks towards Clove, his fury still evident. Clove looks towards Cato, gaze agonized and pleading. Cato looks toward Clove, then toward me and then towards the syringe. I meet and follow his gaze. The decision is instantaneous. Cato and I both go surging towards the Cornucopia, the District Two boy ignoring his district partner's screams.

I'm closer and I scurry up the horn easily. Cato's got more ground to cover, but he's fast. Really fast. I'm just reaching the syringe when I hear his beastly hands slap against the golden metal. I turn to see him standing there, sword ready and face furious.

"Hello, traitor," he says coldly.

I don't respond, my eyes flickering towards the sword in his hand. My spear's gone. I draw my knife from my boot, a pitiful defense against Cato's weapon but I'm not going down without a fight. I can't let him get this advantage.

My preparations for battle are ultimately unnecessary as my feet are unexpectedly yanked out from under me. Thresh. I fall gracelessly off the side of the Cornucopia that Thresh climbed to get the drop on me. To my surprise, he doesn't try to kill me. He instead goes for the syringe, which I fell over with me and landed by the side of the horn.

Thresh has just picked it up in his bloody hands when Cato leaps off the Cornucopia, tackling the larger boy and knocking the advantage from his hands. A well-placed blow to Thresh's side keeps him down as Cato goes for the advantage. My head is still spinning from my rough landing, but as Cato grips the syringe in his powerful hands, one thing is blatantly clear: I'm in deep shit.

Without another thought, Cato plunges the syringe into his arm, injecting the green liquid that surges up his veins in an eerie glow. Oh Jesus, what's it gonna do to him? It is gonna give him superpowers?

I see Thresh look up from his spot on the ground, heaving and bleeding but looking frightened as well. I'm actually not sure I've ever seen Thresh frightened before. But he's got a good reason to be.

Cato sighs in contentment and there's silence for a moment.

But only for a moment.

The first sign that something's wrong comes when the smile drops from Cato's face. For once, he looks terrified…then pained. He begins screaming in a way that I haven't heard since the tracker jacker attack and begins clawing at the arm where he injected the serum. Then the noises begin; shifting, cracking, popping noises, the sounds of joints and bones and muscles all undergoing some hideous transformation.

Like something out of a nightmare, Cato transforms. He collapses onto his haunches as his body continues to grow, shoulders widening, limbs lengthening and muscles bulging, shredding his clothes into scraps. His spinal discs break from the confines of his skin in a bloody ooze, giving him this monstrous protrusion. The same thing happens at his elbows. His finger nails turn into claws as his hands grow, matching his hulking frame that is now the size of a bear. His face shifts too, features blunting themselves and his cruel sneer replaced with a roaring, foaming mouth of razor-sharp teeth. Throughout the whole transformation, Cato never stops screaming.

The last change I notice is his eyes. The cold icy blue is gone, replaced by a feral, glowing green.

A roar from Cato…or what used to be Cato snaps me out of my trance. I leap to my feet and begin running, only stopping to grab Thresh's machete which he'd forgotten on the ground. Thresh is still frozen when I pass him, but I don't bother looking back. I just run, my pack bouncing against my back with each step. I pass a groaning, bleeding Clove on the ground, slowly dying from another vicious stab wound, courtesy of Thresh.

I don't stop running. Another roar only makes me run faster. I sprint faster than I ever thought possible, dodging the tree branches that reach out to me like the clutching claws of whatever in god's name that serum turned Cato into.

I don't stop until my legs collapse beneath me. I roll over and instantly raise the machete, almost expecting the creature to leap out of the canopy to attack. Nothing surrounds me but silent forest. I'm hauling myself to my feet when I hear a cannon shot. Probably Clove. She didn't look so hot. Or perhaps it's Thresh. I shudder at the thought of what the Cato-mutt could do to him.

I could stop to examine my supplies, but I'd rather get back to my hiding spot. With the Cato-mutt out here and with my spear gone, I feel more exposed than ever.

I reach my small den within the hour and immediately hide myself in its familiar confines. I stuff my packs behind me and keep my eyes on the entrance and the machete in my hand. I notice that I can't stop shaking. Not even thoughts of my family can soothe me. Not while the Cato-mutt is out there.

They really weren't kidding about it being a game-changer.

* * *

 **A/N: Did that take any of you by surprise? I sure hope so**


	24. Reflections

A clap of thunder finally snaps my eyes open. Slowly the fog fades from my vision and I recognize the familiar confines of my den, sequestered safely behind the limestone. My body is curled protectively around my yellow backpack, almost spooning with it, and Thresh's machete is still firmly grasped in my hand.

I begin to sit up before noticing the throbbing around my left eye. I gingerly touch it, only to jerk my hand back at the pain. Oh right, the punch Thresh gave me. I can feel the swelling tightening around my line of sight and sending new waves of pain surging out into the rest of my body. I consider going out to check my reflection in the pool where I can accurately assess the damage. Unfortunately, I hear rain.

I inch my way forward and push the brush aside. Turns out, it's a little bit more than rain. It's pouring out. Thick drops of rain pound the earth incessantly, so quick the sound of one drop impacting is completely squelched by the sound of the next impacting and so on. The sky is nothing but darkened gray. It must be near evening, but with the sudden hidden, I can't be totally sure of the time.

With the pool being constantly disturbed, any attempt to examine my injured face would be completely pointless. And with the rain, I can't really go do anything…not that there's really anything to do.

That reminds me that I never checked my pack. I scurry back into the den and open the friendly yellow pack. I almost groan at the sight. Several loaves of rich bread, numerous apples, packets of dried meat, crackers and even some chocolate bars fill the bag with their delicious forms. Everything in me begs to start scarfing down every available morsel until I'm satisfied, but sense prevails. Claudius said this would be my last chance, which sounds like food is going to be scarce from here on out. They're probably trying to hasten the end of the Games. When people are starving, they'll take far more risks. I have to conserve this precious store.

I've got food. I've got shelter. And with this rain, I've got all the water I could ever want. I sit back and sigh with contentment. For the first time since I got in here, I'm sitting pretty. I've got every single one of my needs met, I'm relatively uninjured and I there's nobody around to stab me in the back. Given the circumstances, I'm probably the strongest player left.

Except maybe Cato.

The thought makes me shudder, horrible visions of his transformation returning. I wince as I remember his overgrown bones tearing through his skin, his horrible screams slowly morphing into roars as his mind vanished and something feral took over.

Special advantage my ass.

Fucking gamemakers. I knew they were assholes, but what they did to Cato? I wouldn't wish that on anyone, not even…well Cato. I wouldn't have even wished that on him and to disguise it as an advantage and make us fight over it…I feel sick. I'm just glad he injected it and not me. True he's a lot stronger and probably deadlier now, but at what cost? Even if he wins, will he ever be able to be normal again? I don't know. I can't even imagine what that stuff did to his mind. The Hunger Games alone is enough to drive someone crazy, like that redheaded girl from District Four a few years ago. What happens when you throw in some awful body-morphing serum?

I feel bad for his family. Everyone's got someone who cares about them and whoever cares about Cato is probably in agony right now, seeing what the Games has done to their loved one. A small part of me says it's just karma for all those kids Cato killed, but who am I to say that? I've killed three people myself, even more if you count those I was involved in.

I failed to save Brooke.

I failed to save Rue.

In a way, I bear some responsibility for their deaths. Hell, either Clove or Thresh is dead and I'm sure the wounds I gave them didn't do them any favors. I guess you can add one of them to my total as well.

Brooke and Rue's are the hardest because they were my friends. I miss them both terribly. They both had a certain courage that I couldn't help but admire and they both stood by me in the face of adversity. But when it was time for me to help them, I let them down.

I feel my throat tightening up and decide to push the thoughts away. There's no point in doing this to myself right now. They wouldn't want me wallowing in my shame while the Games are still going on, especially while I have a decent shot at winning. Clove or Thresh is dead and the other, if they survive this rainstorm with their injuries, will be severely weakened. That doesn't leave much real competition. The girl from Five isn't a fighter, despite her intellect, and I know I could kick Peeta's ass if necessary. That just leaves the Cato-mutt and Katniss.

I'm honestly not sure which is the bigger threat. Sure the Cato-mutt is powerful and savage and deadly, but at least I wouldn't hesitate to kill it. Katniss still has some hold on me. Why else would I have saved her at the feast? Why else would I have allowed her to distract me when I was fighting Thresh?

These goddamn sentiments are going to get me killed if I'm not careful. They almost did at the feast. If I had any sense at all, I would've just let Clove finish Katniss off while I escaped with my pack. It would've been the perfect out. The one person who could exploit my feelings would be gone and my hands would be clean. All I had to do was let it happen.

But I didn't.

My mind drifts back to how I diverted my course from the table, savagely attacking Clove to save Katniss. I shouldn't have. Our alliance is over. Anyone else would've just let it go…but somehow I haven't.

I don't know if it's love. I don't think I would call it that myself. But I do know how much I care for her. That was made crystal clear by my actions at the feast. It illuminated just how cancerous these feelings are, gradually destroying me from the inside.

I've only made it worse on myself. By saving Katniss, I've only increased the chance of us reaching the final two and being forced to kill each other. The funny thing is, I don't think Katniss would kill me immediately now, not after I saved her life. If there's one thing I know about her, it's that she's keenly aware of what she owes people. Something like that would stick with her, which is good for me but doesn't completely solve my problem.

As I continue brooding, I replay every conversation I've had with Katniss in my head, from our introduction on the rooftop where I told her what she did for her sister was the most courageous thing I'd ever seen to our sad goodbye two days before the feast.

Could she really kill me?

I was so confident before. Katniss looked completely unreachable, determined to see her sister again by any means necessary. But as I look back on our conversations, on the time we spent with Rue and the time we spent with each other, I notice things. I notice the soft smiles, the gentle looks, the friendly laughter. If her performance during her interview is proof of anything, it was that Katniss can't act to save her life.

A smile creeps across my features at the thought that maybe those moments really will mean something to her. I know that she said she cared about me, but just saying that is one thing. Anyone can say stuff. Anyone can give someone else sweet placating assurances and confessions of suppressed affection. It's another thing for it to be real.

For some reason, I think it might've been real. I know that sounds crazy, especially since literally nothing is real in the Hunger Games. Not the trees. Not the river. Not the animals. Not even the sky. It's easy to forget that we're all just inside a massive building somewhere in Panem. Yet even through all the illusions, all the smokescreens the gamemakers and the Capitol put up, I've found some truths in here.

Brooke was friend.

So was Rue.

And so was Katniss…maybe even still is.

My thoughts scatter with the boom of a cannon, the second of the day. I hurry to opening of my den, machete in hand, and search the cloudy sky for signs of a hovercraft. I find none and exhale in relief. Whoever was killed wasn't killed nearby. I would say I'm safe, at least relatively, but I realize that's never really been true.

Safety is an illusion, like many things in here.

* * *

I stay near the den opening until the anthem plays. The projection is grainy, constantly disturbed by the clouds and the rainfall. Clove's scowling face appears first. No surprise there, especially with the wound Thresh gave her. I try not to focus on the fact that I'm probably holding the weapon that did it and instead cross my fingers that the Cato-mutt has died as well.

No such luck. Thresh's hard features replace Clove's and I feel a twinge of regret. I don't regret defending myself, but I wish I hadn't given Thresh an injury as bad as a knife wound to deal with. I'm sure it did him no favors against the creature that used to be Cato.

No other faces appear and the sky returns to its cloudy form. Unbelievable. We're down to five. Me, Cato, the girl from Five, Katniss and, surprisingly, Peeta.

I'm amazed I've lasted this long. Looking back on all the danger I faced, I really shouldn't have made it this far. They were so many times I could've bought and yet…something always saved me. Whether it was an ally or a timely distraction, I always cheated death. But how much longer will that last?

I've got to be strong now. We're in the home stretch and there's nobody on my side. Katniss and Peeta are the only ones who have that luxury anymore thanks to the rule change. Everyone else is going to be looking out for number one and I must do the same.

I don't think I'll kill Katniss. Whenever the thought crosses my mind, I feel my stomach tightening in apprehension, my mind screaming "NO" despite the pull of rationality. I'll still have to watch my ass around her, but some vague part of me, some undefined hopeful section, says she won't kill me either, especially since I saved her life at the feast. The crazy thing is, I'm starting to believe it. I'll still be careful, but I don't feel the sense of doom I did a few days ago.

The real problem will the Cato-mutt. Every clap of thunder makes me shudder, bringing back memories of its roars. I shudder as I see Cato transform again in my mind's eye, twitching and surging as his body turned into an abomination. I doubt he has any semblance of thought left. It sure didn't look like it.

Hopefully the rain will keep things quiet. I suspect that the gamemakers are doing it on purpose. They got a lot of action at the feast and if they want an exciting finale, all the remaining players will need some rest. I suppose nothing less would do for them.

With the finale closer than ever before and closer still with each passing second, I think of my family. I think of my father and how we'd sit up at night talking, him asking me how school went and keeping me entertained with ridiculous anecdotes. I think of my mother and how she'd hug me every morning before I left, without fail. Mostly, I think of Striker and how he was my shadow, hobbling after me and soaking up every detail about my training like a sponge.

My parents never asked me about training because they never wanted me to go. They respected me enough to let me make my own decisions, but inside I think it ate at them, the thought of losing their son in the Games like so many other parents had. They were no fans, but they watched like everyone else in our Hunger-Games-crazy district did and they knew the odds. Striker was the only one ever excited by it, partly because he was so young and, I suspect, partly because of the action; the movement.

I feel shame building in me. How much pain have my actions caused them? How could I do this to them? I abandoned them all to run off to the Hunger Games. For what? The old reasons of money and security seem hollow now. Things never would've been great for us. My father still would've had to work whatever shitty jobs he could get. My mother would've still had to clean for families like Glimmer's. Striker would've still had to use his crutches…but at least we would've all been together and alive.

I thought I was being selfless by coming here, risking my life to give my family a better one, but maybe I've only been selfish. They never asked me to do this. My parents never complained about their jobs. Striker never complained about his crutches. All of them persisted. They never whined or talked about wanting luxury. In the end, I think all they ever wanted was for our family to stay together…and I fucked that up.

For the first time since Rue died, I feel tears building behind my eyes. Instead of fighting them down, I let them go. I don't care anymore about image. I don't care if people think this doesn't make me look like a strong tribute. I don't want their respect. I don't want their money. I don't want their titles or their feasts or their honors or anything else they've dangled in front of me.

I just want my family. I want to go home. I want to live see their faces again. I want to joke around with my father again and I want to tell my mother I love her and I want to play with Striker in the park again and hear him ask me a million questions that I wouldn't have the slightest idea how to answer.

I won't do this for glory. I won't do this for money. I'll do this for them. I'll do this so I can go home and then I'll bury it forever.

There's only one path that leads to my family getting me back in one piece…and I intend to follow it.

* * *

 **A/N: An early Christmas gift for all my readers. I hope you all enjoy your holiday. The finale of the Hunger Games is coming next and it'll be the longest chapter of the story. Stay tuned.**


	25. Finale

It rains all of the following day. I only emerge once to use the bathroom. I spend the rest of the day listening to the sound of the raindrops pelting the limestone and the surface of the pond. It tears up the ground like machine gun fire, scattering the mud with each hit. Thunder occasionally rumbles overhead, along with a few bolts of white lightening.

All of this is lost me on me, though. For the Hunger Games, my den is a paradise; safe, warm and secluded. My backpack from the feast keeps me completely with food and, with the rain, water is no problem.

I spend most of the day thinking, about my family, about Katniss, about the Hunger Games. No cannons sound and no projections appear. I suppose it's no surprise. The five of us that're still hanging in there have outlasted nineteen other tributes for nothing. There's something about every one of us that makes us deadly and nobody got here by accident…except maybe Peeta.

Peeta, with his stupid declarations of love and harebrained idea of joining the careers to protect Katniss. I don't doubt that he cares. I do doubt his competence and suspect he'll be nothing but a burden to Katniss. Hell, she already almost died retrieving their pack from the feast singlehandedly. Without her protecting him, there's no way he would've lasted this long.

I don't exactly want to kill Peeta, but I don't like him. It's more like I resent his existence. I certainly wouldn't be crying if he succumbed to his wounds. If he weren't around, Katniss and I could've stayed allies and won this thing. We both could've gone back to our families and who knows what might have happened between us.

Those dreams are all deader than Glimmer now and all I can do is look out for myself. The only bright side is that everyone besides Katniss and Peeta is in the same boat as I am: We've all got to look out for ourselves. Me and the girl from Five do at least. I'm really not sure if the Cato-mutt is still capable of conscious thought.

I wake up fairly late the following day, dulled rays of late-morning sifting into my den through the windows in the brush. It might be a bit cloudy, but I notice a distinct lack of the sound of rain outside. If it stopped raining, that means that the break is over and the gamemakers are ready for the action to continue. I can't imagine watching everyone rest for the past day and a half has been too interesting for the asshole audience back in the Capitol.

Time to get moving. I yawn and stretch as much as the small confines will allow. I grab Thresh's machete before squirming through the small opening, eager to see what's going on.

It's only when I stumble into the waist-deep water outside that I realize what's going on.

It's time for the finale. And for that finale, they're flooding the arena.

All around me, the forest that I knew is gone, replaced by an endless lake with countless trees rising out of it. The pond has been completely swallowed, hidden beneath the muddied waters. Countless pine needles and leaves litter the surface of the water, pushed aside only by the trunks of the immovable trees and me.

I look around, trying to gauge a direction. Down the incline, in the direction of the river, the water looks deeper, darker and somehow ominous.

The river. The mutts.

The thought makes me shudder and I grip my machete tighter. It's not bad, but I'd feel a lot less vulnerable with a spear in my hands. The water hasn't climbed over the limestone rise yet and my den is still dry, but I suspect it won't stay that way for long.

Thunder booms overhead, making me jump, and thick raindrops begin falling again, slapping the water incessantly with their impact.

The message from the gamemakers is clear.

 **Get moving.**

There's only one way to go, up the incline, back towards the Cornucopia. I scurry back into my den to retrieve my pack of food. It may be the finale, but you never know what you might need. I hoist the bag and the machete above the water as I slosh my way forward, the muddy bottom sucking at my boots with each step. Raindrops stream down my face, soaking my bangs and running into my eyes. I blink to keep them clear and push forward. It's a good thing my jacket is water-proof because otherwise I'd be completely soaked. I suspect my bottoms won't be dry for a while thanks this little lake the gamemakers were so gracious to provide me with.

I trudge forward, working against the mud and gravity. It's a good thing I'm not short or this would be even harder. Slowly but surely, I trudge out of the water and onto slightly drier ground. Rain continues to fall through the canopy, but the branches still offer a little cover. I lean against a tree to catch my breath and eat a chocolate bar from my bag.

I groan in satisfaction as the sweet, smooth piece of chocolate dissolves on my tongue. It's one of the few genuine satisfactions I've enjoyed in here. As I stand there munching, I begin to wonder how the others are doing. Did Katniss and Peeta get moving earlier and avoid all this water or are they trudging through it right now? Would Peete even be able to do that with his injured leg?

I can't help but chuckle at the thought of Katniss trying to carry the much-larger boy. And what about the girl from Five? I realize that I don't know much about her other than that she's smart. I don't have the slightest idea where she's been during the Games. Probably hiding. But where? Is she caught in the water? Somehow I doubt it. She doesn't seem like the type to be taken by surprise by something like the weather.

The Cato-mutt could literally be anywhere. Wherever it is, I highly doubt there was any logic put into the decision. It's most likely wandering around aimlessly in search of something to destroy. The one good thing is that Cato was never subtle and he certainly won't be able to sneak up on me now that he's a gigantic monster.

My thoughts are scattered when a bolt of lightning strikes the tree I'm leaning against. I let out the most unmanly scream of my life as I dive away, hair standing on end. Lying in the mud, I look up towards the top of the tree, which is blackened and smoking even in the rain.

Once again, another message by the gamemakers: No stalling. Move towards the action.

"I'm going. I'm going," I say to nobody, annoyance clear in my voice.

I push myself up from the mud and trudge onward, my machete never leaving my hand.

* * *

It's a couple of hours before I'm getting close to the Cornucopia. The whole time, it never stops raining and the edge of the growing lake follows me as I continue heading towards higher ground. On the way, I pass a familiar sight: the tracker jacker tree. I can't help but wince when I see it. It's completely vacant now, with no sign of the horrors that occurred here earlier. Even the remnants of the nest and the career campfire are completely gone now.

I find myself wondering if they went away naturally or if the gamemakers actually had them removed after the action was gone. I wouldn't put it past them, especially since this is just a reality TV show to them. I crack of lightning nearby pulls me from my thoughts and gets me moving again. I guess the gamemakers are pretty antsy to get this over with.

When I reach the clearing around the Cornucopia, I'm stunned at the sight. The lake has risen and swelled beyond its boundaries. The clearing is now submerged in water thanks the slight rise around it. It's trapped the water a bit like a bowl, but with the rain it's only going to keep flooding. It's already pouring into the mouth of the Cornucopia, the walls of the golden horn only visible above the water line.

Clearly I need to keep heading towards higher ground, but I hesitate. Going straight across would leave me completely exposed. On the other hand, it probably only gets deeper the closer I get to the original lake or Thresh's now sunken wheat-field, so straight across may be the safest option…especially if there's mutts involved.

I stand there for a moment, thinking, when a distinctive roar snaps me out of my thoughts.

Oh shit.

It came from behind me, somewhere further back in the forest. The creature formerly known as Cato is nearby. And he probably won't be too happy to see me again.

Steeling myself, I step forward and instantly sink up to my thighs in the water. I begin slogging my way across the clearing, backpack hitched up, machete drawn and underwear clinging uncomfortably to my junk. Another roar off in the forest only makes me move faster. For once, my lanky legs are helping me out instead of getting in the way.

About halfway across, I notice a log gradually getting closer. I hardly look at it, until I see it move its tail. I freeze, standing completely still, a gangly statue in the middle of a lake. I watch it out of the corner of my eye as it closes in.

Yep. It's one of the lizard-mutts from the river. I recognize the scaly, armored skin and pointed, snapping jaws just beneath the surface. I try to stay calm, keeping my breathing even. I can't freak out. Just like last time, I'm going to need to time this right.

The creature slithers closer, cutting through the water silently towards me. It's almost graceful and the only real disturbance comes from the occasional rain drops. I tighten my grip on my machete, muscles corded and ready to lash out on the mutt.

I almost miss it, but my time in here has heightened my senses. I hear movement, ever so quiet, behind me and I know what it means. There's another mutt trying to take me by surprise. If not for the wolf-mutts, I don't know if I'd expect it. But I do. Apparently, different mutts use similar tactics. The only difference is this time I know it's coming.

I don't have to look. I listen. I feel the movement of the water behind me, the subtle changes in flow beneath the barrage of raindrops. I imagine the creature coiling behind me, its muscles tightening beneath its scaly hide, preparing to launch itself out of the water and take me down. I only grip my machete tighter and wait for it.

I feel the creature launch itself behind me and I spin flawlessly, the blade of my machete cutting the mutt down in mid-air. Blood flies out of the wound in its snout as it crashes back into the muddy water. I turn back towards the other mutt, which has made its move. I jump back from the creature's snapping jaws and start hacking away with the machete.

I get a few good hits in, enough to draw blood and drive the mutt back. Without another thought, I turn and run, using my long legs to high-step out of the dangerous waters. I don't stop until I completely clear the water. I catch my breath and turn back. The two mutts I wounded are still roiling around in the water where I left them. I'm about to get moving again when I notice movement on the other side of the clearing, across the water. I duck behind one of the pine trees near the edge of the water and peer across, hoping to god that it's not the Cato-mutt that's nearby.

It's not that at all. It's actually the farthest thing from it. I spot a distinctive mane of red hair and a small, lithe body pushing the foliage aside.

The girl from District Five.

I guess she didn't get as early a start as I thought. I'm almost proud of the fact that I beat her across, especially with the cunning that seems as much a part of her as her fox-like features. She looks left and right, obviously assessing the risks of crossing. It's completely exposed, full of mutts and dangerous as hell. But the water is rising and, based on the sounds, the Cato-mutt is on her side of the clearing. As if on cue, a distinctive roar rings out across the water. It's closer than before and that seems to make the girl's decision for her.

She steps in and instantly sinks up to her armpits. It's funny. I used to think my gangly, awkward limbs were a curse, but after seeing what a short tribute is dealing with in this situation, I'm starting to rethink that.

As far as I can tell, the girl from Five is unarmed and incredibly nervous, casting panicked glances all around with every step she takes, almost like she expects the water itself to attack her. I'm sure the fact that she's almost swimming isn't helping. I suppose it is more frightening when you don't have a good view of what's around you. I was lucky. My goofy legs allowed me to tower over the water like a flamingo and see my surroundings. The girl from Five doesn't have that luxury.

I'm about to take off when I spot the distinctive scaled bodies of the lizard-mutts cutting through the water like boats, charting a course directly towards the girl from Five. She keeps moving, struggling through the water and unable to see the impending danger. I take a step forward, ready to call out and warn the girl, but instead I freeze. I watch the mutts swimming closer. I know what's going to happen, but I do nothing.

This is the Hunger Games. I can't save everyone. Not if I'm going to see my family again.

By the time the girl from Five senses the danger, it's far too late. Her shrill, panicked screams ring out despite the rain and I can't help but wince. When the jaws of the first creature seize her, I look away. Her screams pick up, rising in pitch and getting more desperate, like the screams during the tracker jacker attack. Screams, snarling and the sounds of churning water and crunching bone fill the air and I can't take it anymore. I turn and run.

I head deeper into the uncharted forest, running frantically towards the mountain, anything to get away from the gruesome scene. Awful images of Lewis and Clove torturing the boy from Ten flash through my mind, mixed with what I just saw. Broken bits of bone, snapping jaws, blood-stained knives, slashed stomachs.

I collapse against a tree and put my head between my knees. I squeeze them together desperately, anything to get the images to stop. They don't. More come instead. I see the snarling wolf-mutts, Brooke's sting-ridden body, Rue getting speared, Cato's transformation.

I desperately try to think of something good, something to make the images stop. I think of Striker and the days I'd take him to the park. I think of my father's laugh and my mother's hugs. I think of the time I first hit a bullseye with my spear. Surprisingly, I also think of Katniss. Quite a bit actually. I think of the conversations we had on the rooftop, of the times we traded jabs, of the time she saved my life, of the time we kissed.

It's stupid, but I don't care. Gradually, the images fade, leaving only a pleasant warmth in their place. My breathing settles and I look up. The rain has slowed to a drizzle and there's no more screams. Just the tranquil sounds of the forest.

Wearily, I get up and draw my machete again. As I'm inspecting the blade, a cannon fires. The girl from Five is gone and it's down to four. I've gotta keep it together. Once I win the games, I can have all the mental breakdowns I want. For now, there's still work to do.

* * *

It's a longer hike to the mountain than I thought. The rain picks up again and turns into a downpour. I swear water is seeping up out of the ground itself because it rises freakishly fast. I've been moving all day, heading uphill and yet the waterline is always within sight, almost keeping pace with me.

I'm not surprised the gamemakers want it to end here. A pair of lovers, a gigantic monster and…me all fighting to the death on top of a mountain while a thunderstorm rages in the background. It's sure to be entertaining television, whatever the result.

I'm forced to stuff my machete into my belt as I reach the first heaps of granite that make up the mountain. The water makes them slick and I have to be careful. It'd be quite the anticlimax for me to lose the Hunger Games because I fell to my death on the way to the final showdown. Fortunately, there isn't too much vertical climbing. It's more like walking up a really rocky hill…a gigantic rocky hill that goes on forever.

My legs burn and my fingers ache as I climb over another cropping of granite. I flop down on top of it and wipe my bangs away from my face. Despite the storm, there's a pretty good view. Or at least it would be good if most of the arena wasn't underwater. All that's visible now are the pine trees, still stretching defiantly above the rising water.

I'd kill for some gum right now. I pull a granola bar out of my food pack to eat instead. The last vestiges of sunlight are disappearing, although there wasn't much to begin with thanks to the storm. As the darkness increases, I look up. It looks like there's a small plateau just above the next rise of granite, then the top of the mountain itself. It seems like I'm the first one here with nothing to do now but wait for my adversaries to show up.

I keep my hand on my machete as I watch my surroundings. Then far beneath me, I feel a rumble. I look down and watch a large section of granite crumble away from the mountain. Water immediately starts pouring out through the gap like a dam had burst. This is it. The gamemakers want to end this now.

As if on cue, the slab of granite I'm standing on begins to rumble. I only have my second to drop my granola bar and begin climbing before it crumbles. Just like the other one, water begins shooting out of the hole. It's rising continuously. I'm weak, exhausted and soaked to the bone, but I keep climbing. I can't even imagine what the gamemakers have swimming around in that water.

Mercifully, my hands grip the edge of the plateau and I haul myself up. The large unbroken slab of granite sticks out from the mountain like a balcony, giving a surprisingly large amount of space for the top of the mountain. I hunch over, trying to catch my breath as the storm rages around me. I'm really feeling it now, the fatigue of the Games. I wish I could just lie here and sleep. I'd give anything for that, to not have to fight anymore. I'm so tired, so tired of fighting, so tired of everything.

For some reason, my mind drifts back to the Academy, to my training. Instead of the usual montage of destroying dummies, sparring and studying film, this moment is specific. It's specific and it's specific because it's fucked up, even by Academy standards.

It happened when I was fourteen. It was the year they culled us, sending the trainees that they didn't think had progressed enough to be decent tributes home for good. I still remember seeing those kids walking around later with bruises all over their faces. Their parents didn't even try to hide it. It was their brand of failure, for failing to bring honor to their family and their district…or so everybody else said. Those that remained, including me, were graduating. From then on, they told us, the training would only get tougher, more realistic. Whatever it took to get us ready for the Games. District Two had been kicking our teeth in lately and we needed to get stronger, tougher.

Tougher

The head trainer, a big guy named Odin with a jagged scar running down the side of his face and onto his neck, called us all into the film room one day that Spring. It was just the fourteen-year-olds in there, about twenty of us. Glimmer was there too and even back then there were rumors that the only reason she hadn't been cut was because of her looks. Hell, maybe the rumors were too. Thanks to that scar, I don't think Odin got a lot of female attention. At least not the kind you didn't pay for.

Aside from his scar, the most prominent thing about him was his eyes. They were dark as midnight, so dark you couldn't see his pupils. Some people speculated that he didn't even have them since not having pupils was an indication of not having a soul. To be fair, I don't think Odin did.

That day he told us we were all being tested. Alone. I remember one of the other kids raised his hand and asked where all the older trainees were. Odin just smiled this creepy, knowing smile and told us he had given them the day off to test us. And that shut everybody up. Odin was a former peacekeeper. He trained us hard and certainly never gave anyone the luxury of a day off. That was a red flag that something was up.

One by one, we were all called out. Thinking back, it was actually a lot like our private sessions with the gamemakers. One tribute would be called and the others would just wait for their turn. My turn came near the middle. I remember getting up and one of the other trainers ushering me out of the film room and into the main training area. The lights were all off except for one. Odin stood in the small circle of light with a spear in his hand.

"Come here, boy," he said as I approached. His voice was low and raspy, like he was speaking with gravel in his throat.

I forced myself to meet his gaze. It was even darker then and just had a way of making you shake. I couldn't show weakness then though. Not when I was being tested.

"Y'know boy, you've shown some promise, especially with these," said Odin, gesturing to the spear in his hands.

"Thank you, sir," I answered, standing rigidly like a good little soldier, like Odin had taught us to be. I couldn't have been more nervous, though. Odin would never call me over just to compliment me. He always had something up his sleeve.

"The thing is," Odin continued, stepping away from me and staring at some unknown point in the darkness, "Despite the fact that you've shown potential with weapons, I just don't know if you have the necessary edge to be a tribute. You might just be too nice a kid."

I'm sure I paled. I had to make tribute. I needed to make tribute. Everything hinged on that. That was my family's chance at the life they deserved. If I couldn't make it, I'd fail them.

"Sir, y-you have to believe me. I will do anything to make tribute and there's nothing I can't handle," I said with as much conviction as a nervous fourteen-year-old could muster.

"Is that so?" he said with a smug expression I desperately wanted smack off.

"Yes," I hissed, my growing anger making it easier and easier to face him.

"Do you have that edge, boy?" he chuckled.

"Yes," I answered again, anger boiling over.

Odin smirked. "I guess you'd be willing to prove it then."

Something about the way he said it seemed off. Before I could ask what exactly he meant, he disappeared into the darkness. I fidgeted, curious but afraid to leave to small circle of light. I knew Odin wanted me to wait, but I wasn't sure how long that would be. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I almost didn't see the spear that came hurtling out of the darkness towards my feet, which I barely pulled out of the way in time.

"What the fuck!" I yelled, observing a smirking Odin emerging from the shadows with a dummy in tow. Except this one looked a little different from the usual dummies we used.

"You're gonna want that spear," he said as he began setting up the dummy. It didn't look like the padded gray ones we used for target practice. This one was sleek, black and metallic and it had a sword fused into its hand.

"What is that?" I asked hesitantly.

"I would've thought you'd recognize a dummy when you saw one," said Odin as he began messing around with something on the dummy's back.

I rolled my eyes. "I mean…it's different. It's not like the dummies we use here."

"Correctamundo. It's a…special one. I managed to borrow a bunch of them from the peacekeepers for our tests today," Odin said, unable to keep that creepy smile off his face.

"What does it do?" I asked, forcing the words out.

Odin turned his face towards me and gave me a feral grin that made my skin crawl. "It challenges you."

I heard a switch flipped. The dummy came alive and suddenly I was frozen, like I'd been shot full of electricity. It took a warrior's stance, raising its sword and ready to do battle. I barely noticed it, though. My focus was on the dummy's head, where Striker's face was projected.

The dummy took a step forward but I couldn't move. It's like my legs were welded to the ground. All I could focus on was my little brother's face. It was his school ID photo and he had the same goofy grin he always did, stretching widely across his small face.

It's only when I saw the sword moving towards me that my mind came back. I reflexively dodged the blow, but couldn't strike back. I couldn't stop looking at the face. The face of the person I loved most in the world was suddenly trying to kill me. I dodged another swing. It left itself open for a counter-attack but again I hesitated.

I started dancing, trying to stay in the ring of light and dodge the dummy's swings. I'm sure it had night-vision and I knew I wouldn't stand a chance out in the darkness.

"Quit fucking around! Just kill the damn thing!" I heard Odin's voice call out from somewhere in the depths of the shadows.

I rolled under another swing, but fatigue was getting to me. I was getting slower. It was apparent when the dummy's blade nicked my shoulder.

"Goddamn it, boy! Do you want to die? Pick up the goddamn spear and kill it!" bellowed Odin.

Kill it? I couldn't, not with Striker's friendly face fixed on me. The dummy took another swing that missed my throat my a few inches.

"Are you going to fucking die on me, boy?! Well are you!? Then do it now and quit wasting my fucking time!" Odin raged.

The dummy's next swing caught my shirt near my ribs, barely missing my skin.

"I thought you would do whatever it took to make tribute! Are you really being held back by fucking emotion!?" screamed the furious head trainer.

I was. Odin was right about that.

"Shut that shit down right fucking now! Pick up that spear and kill the bastard!"

The next swing nicked my leg and I could feel the first trickles of blood coming down from my shoulder.

"Shut it down! If you want even the slightest chance of surviving the Games, you'll do as I say!"

I went numb. But I didn't stop moving. I moved robotically, without any thought. I dove under the dummy's next blow and retrieved the spear. As it turned, I drove the spear into its chest. The dummy crumbled to the ground and the projection of Striker's face vanished.

I was aware of my heaving and my fatigue. But other than that, I felt nothing and stared blankly at the dead pile of metal and plastic at my feet. All I could think of was how the dummy had seemed so alive a moment ago. A moment ago, it had been my brother.

It wasn't until Odin clapped me on the back that I came out of my trance. I looked up at him, wide-eyed and shaking but with the spear still buried in the dummy's chest. He had the most satisfied smirk I've ever seen on another human being's face as he appraised me.

"I think you'll do just fine, Marvel," he said with a deep, raspy chuckle.

That whole scene keeps replaying itself in my mind as I sit on top of the granite balcony. Was it really that easy? To just shut down all feeling and do what's necessary to survive? I did it then…but that was still just a dummy, even if it did have Striker's face on it. Can I do it for real? Can I shut everything down and kill someone I care about if my own survival is on the line?

The sound of someone stumbling over rocks behind me grabs my attention. Only one idiot would be stumbling around right now, making his presence so obvious he might as well have shot off a flare. I grab my machete and turn to see a very unwelcome sight: Peeta Mellark clambering gracelessly up onto the granite balcony.

He's soaked to the bone and obviously doesn't see me at first. He glances behind him and calls out, "Up here, Katniss. I think we-

The remaining words refuse to leave his mouth when he spots me across the balcony. His wide blue gaze is completely shocked. Mine is cold and, as I stare at him, I feel all emotion leaving my body. I already didn't like Peeta and now…well now I don't feel any hesitation.

My grip flexes around my machete as the gamemakers reach into their bag of clichés with a lightning strike behind us. I'm about to bull rush Peeta and slash his throat when a distinctive brunette appears at the edge of the balcony.

"Thanks for waiting, Peeta," Katniss says with such sarcasm that it almost makes me smile, "I thought we plan-

Katniss spots me, too. There's a moment of hesitation when her sharp silver gaze meets my green one. I'm aware of some faint desire, but I quickly squelch it. There's no room for that stuff anymore.

When I see her drawing a silver arrow from her quiver, I make my move. I rush Peeta. The District Twelve boy barely has time to draw his weapon before I'm on him. He frantically calls out for Katniss to shoot as I take a swipe at him with the machete. He actually manages to dodge the first swing. I guess machetes never were my best weapon. If I had my spear, he'd already be dead.

Then he does something that takes me by surprise. He launches himself forward and tackles me, knocking the machete out of my hands. It's a similar tactic to what Thresh did, except Peeta, while stocky, is nowhere near as heavy as the District Eleven boy. As he draws his knife, I manage to throw him off. Over Peeta's shoulder, I spot Katniss with an arrow loaded. I quickly roll behind Peeta and draw my trusty fire-starter knife out of my boot. I know her. She'll never take the shot if she can't be sure it won't hit Peeta.

We crash into each other like a pair of oncoming cars. Each of us blocks the other's stab attempt and we're locked, wrestling for control. Peeta's a lot stronger than I ever would've expected, especially after a few weeks in the Games.

"Peeta move!" I hear Katniss screech. Through the scuffle, I can see her with an arrow drawn, looking desperately for an opening.

We continue struggling, getting dangerously close to the edge as we do. Somewhere behind us, I can hear Katniss' voice. I don't know what she's saying, but I suspect it's something about Peeta getting out of the way. I manage to get a kick in, which he returns, something I'm surprised he could pull off with that leg of his.

His leg.

It suddenly clicks and, in the chaos, I notice Peeta's leg, still healing and wrapped tightly in a clean white bandage. I know what to do. This time, I take Peeta by surprise, yanking his own knife forward into the meaty part of my shoulder. It burns as it enters but Peeta's surprised enough to loosen his grip on the hand holding my knife. Quick as the lightning around us, I yank it free and drive my blade into Peeta's injured leg.

"Peeta!" I hear Katniss call frantically.

The District Twelve boy yelps in pain as blood begins pouring down his leg. I yank my knife out and drive it into his stomach as well. That wound makes him gasp and I can feel him growing limp in my arms. As he begins to slide to the ground, I remember Katniss with her loaded arrow.

I frantically catch the bleeding boy, making sure to keep his body between Katniss and I. I haul his weary body in front of mine and bring my knife to his throat.

It's then that I meet Katniss' gaze again. It's sharp as ever and unflinching, but I detect a little bit of uncertainty behind it and her arrow wavers ever so slightly.

"Let him go," she says firmly.

I feel Peeta wheezing in my grasp as blood runs down both us, pooling beneath our feet with the rainwater. I didn't even have time to pull Peeta's knife out of my shoulder and it hurts like hell.

"I don't think I will. He's the only thing keeping me from catching an arrow right now," I manage to say as I maneuver us away from the edge. The last thing I need is to lose my balance and fall off.

Peeta's down for the count. He's not dead, but his strength is long gone. It's like trying to hold a mannequin up in front of me as I move. A really fucking heavy mannequin. Katniss doesn't say anything and neither do I. But I can see the gears turning in her head. She's trying to think of a way to end this. I can't afford to give her that time.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this," I say, trying to keep Peeta's soggy, bleeding body upright as I inch closer.

Katniss doesn't answer but keeps her gaze on mine…and that's her mistake. Before she realizes it, I shove Peeta's limp body into her. She fires her arrow aimlessly before I knock the bow out of her hands. Surprisingly, she doesn't worry about dodging my blade and instead punches me in the face. Her swing splits my lip open and, before I've realized what happened, she's pulled Peeta's knife out of my shoulder.

I barely get out of the way in time. Her slash catches my bicep, but just barely. She's also over-extended herself. I yank her outstretched arm forward and knee her in the gut. I hear the wind leave her as I knock her legs out from under her. Before she can get up, I jump on top of her and pin her arms to the rocky surface.

As I bring my knife to her throat, Katniss looks back at me, defiant as ever. That silver gaze that was once softened towards me is now harder than steel. Why am I not surprised? I'd expect nothing less from her.

She stares at me silently, huffing in anger and trying to escape my iron grasp. My blade is pressed tightly into her throat. All it would take is one flick of my wrist. One quick movement. That's all it would take.

Shut it down. Do it.

I hear Odin's words playing in my head as I pause. Katniss looks increasingly confused as we both sit there in the rain. I will myself to go numb, to feel nothing. To just shut down everything and do what needs to be done for me to go home.

I tighten my grip around my knife as if that was all I needed to do. The muscles in my arms contract, ready for the slashing motion, but I can't do it. Instead of going numb, I feel everything. I feel every emotion and remember everything. Everything I've ever said and felt and done with Katniss comes back. I feel all the admiration and humor and respect and comradery and attraction of the past few weeks crash into me like a powerful tidal wave. It's overwhelming.

"What're you waiting for?" Katniss spits at me bitterly.

Instead of answering, I bring my knife away from her throat and get off her. I take a few steps back and stand there, catching my breath as the rain continues to drench us both.

"Why?" Katniss asks, looking up at me from her spot on the ground.

"Y'know most people wouldn't be so upset about not being killed," I tease, throwing her own words back at her.

"Yeah, but that doesn't explain anything," she says, her annoyance obvious.

I shrug. "Because I don't want to."

Katniss shakes her head. "You think I want to kill you? It doesn't matter what we want. We have to."

"No…we don't," I say.

It's a funny time to come to an epiphany but I do. This whole time, ever since I left home, I've felt powerless. I've felt like I was completely at the mercy of the Capitol. In a way, I was. But I realize now that I've got more power than I ever realized, especially now that I'm one of the last tributes. They want their victor sure…but we have to kill each other to do that. What if we just say no? What do they do then?

I slip my knife back into my boot and walk over to Katniss, extending my hand to help her up. She looks up at me incredulously and shakes her head in disbelief.

"And you say I fucked with your head," she mutters.

With a sigh of resignation, she takes my hand and I haul her to her feet. I can't help but smile, even with everything up in the air. Somehow, I know I've done the right thing.

"What do we do now?" Katniss asks.

Before I can answer, a distinctive roar booms out above the sound of the storm.

Oh shit. I forgot about the Cato-mutt.

We both turn our gazes towards the opposite side of the balcony, where the hideous, hulking creature is climbing up. Somehow, it's even uglier than before, torn and scarred from what I suspect is several fights with other mutts. I reach into my boot and draw my knife again, trying to keep myself from trembling.

What used to be Cato hauls itself up and stands there, drenched and growling. Its razor-sharp claws and teeth look ready to tear flesh. Its muscles look strong enough to snap me like a twig. And its neon-green eyes are completely feral.

It steps closer, seemingly sizing us up. It inadvertently moves closer to where Peeta's sprawled out, most likely unconscious. Katniss instinctively steps forward, ready to protect her district-partner. I pull her back.

"Let me go!" she hisses while trying to keep her voice down.

"It hasn't noticed him yet. If you want to protect him, don't draw its attention over there," I snap.

The monster keeps heaving, almost like it's waiting for us to make the first move.

"I need my bow," Katniss whispers.

I spot it near the edge of the balcony, fortunately not in the water.

"Go," I answer, "I'll distract it."

"Are you insane?" she questions, "That thing will kill you."

I just shrug. "I've lived with the threat of death for a while now. I'm not afraid anymore."

Katniss opens her mouth to retort but is once again suppressed by a ferocious roar. The creature has had enough of waiting.

"Go!" I shout, shoving Katniss towards her bow as the creature charges.

I time it right, just like I did with Thresh, and dodge the charging behemoth. Except this behemoth is faster and takes quick swipes with its claws. I dodge all but one, which catches my right thigh. I wince as blood seeps out of the tears in my pants. It's not lethal, but it stings and slows me down.

It lurches forward, attempting to bite me, and I manage to slash it across the face. What used to be Cato bellows in pain and looks back. Its gaze is no longer emotionless. Its furious.

It attacks with renewed energy. My leg slows me down and, as I dodge another swing, I can feel the blood running down into my boot. I catch the Cato-mutt's claws with my blade a few times, but it doesn't do much. His entire body is marred with slashes from what I assume is many vanquished animals. If they failed, what am I going to do?

I duck below another slash, but the creature has clearly learned something already. It pivots quickly and smashes its immense, bony elbows into my chest. I can feel it break skin as I fall onto the rocky surface of the balcony. I scramble to pick up my knife as the creature advances on me, ready to tear me apart like I'm sure Cato always wanted to. He'd probably appreciate it if he was still capable of appreciating things. Or y'know…thinking.

Then another surprise. As the creature moves forward a sharp silver arrow dives into its neck. Blood spurts out but, unlike Lewis, the Cato-mutt doesn't go down. It turns defiantly on Katniss, standing beside Peeta's prone body and frantically loading another arrow.

It lurches towards her as she fires an arrow deep into its chest. It's about as effective as throwing pebbles at an oncoming train. As I haul myself to my feet, I spot something: my machete. It's balanced right on the edge of the balcony across from me, waiting like some wonderful present. I sprint over and grab it. The Cato-mutt doesn't even notice, way too focused on Katniss and her bothersome arrows.

I don't know what I'm thinking. I suppose I'm not. Maybe that's why I'm doing this. With the machete in hand, I jump onto the creature's back and drive the machete into its throat. The blade's sharp edge slices through tight cords of tendons and arteries as more blood pours out of the creature's throat, making its once ferocious roars a gurgled mess.

My moment of triumph is short-lived. The creature still has enough fight left to reach behind it and drive its claws deep into my side. The pain steals my breath. Every injury I've ever had before, from spraining my ankle when I was twelve to the wolf-mutts tearing into me, was nothing compared to this. It's completely numbing and I feel my innards shuffle as the creature rips its claws out. An unstoppable flow of blood follows the claws out as the creature drops me on the rocky surface of the balcony.

I'm sprawled out on the ground. The impact with the ground and my injury has left me dazed. Robotically, I bring my hands to my side. They come back crimson and I can feel liquid warmer than the rainwater pooling beneath my weakened body. Through the haze, I can still make out the creature. I watch numbly as it charges Katniss. With a desperate swing, it manages to catch her shoulder, but it's not her good one and the Cato-mutt is rapidly losing strength and blood.

Katniss pivots and begins shooting again, arrow after arrow burying itself in the creature's body. Not even the constant rainfall can wash away the blood pouring out of the Cato-mutt's injuries. Katniss fires with clinical precision, driving the creature closer and closer to the edge of the balcony. She buries a final arrow between the creature's eyes and it freezes, teetering like a chopped tree, before finally falling over the edge.

I hear the impact of its body hitting the water and a cannon shot only a few seconds later. My head collapses on the ground. She did it. She fucking did it. The last mutt is gone.

As if on cue, the storm stops and the clouds slowly drift away, leaving the moon and the starry sky visible for the first time in days. My breathing slows and I feel some sense of serenity as I stare up into the beauty. It's only the sound of another wheezing gasp that brings me back.

I manage to prop myself up despite my immense blood-loss. Katniss is kneeling over Peeta, who's unnaturally pale. His blue eyes pop like a pair of gemstones against his paper white skin. The only spots that aren't white are those covered in red blood. But somehow he's still alive.

Katniss looks over at me and it clicks. I'm the last obstacle between her and Peeta going home and to save him, I must die. She stands up and I try desperately to do the same, only I can't. My legs crumble beneath me and my arms barely have enough strength to prop my body up. I try to use my machete to push myself up without success, flopping back down into the pools of blood and water around me.

"Not bad, Twelve," I say, trying my best to smirk as she stands over me. If I'm going to die, I'm going face it with whatever dignity I've got left. I'm certainly not going to grovel.

Katniss stands over me silently, staring at me like I'm some bizarre creature she's never seen before, something you're not sure if you should destroy or preserve.

"Katniss…" Peeta rasps, picking his head up off the rock.

"Peeta," Katniss says, turning her attention back to her wounded partner.

He looks up at her weakly and then towards me. "Y-you have to…you have to do it," he says.

Fucking weasel. I shoot Peeta the dirtiest look I can muster. Even now, he's completely useless, making Katniss do everything. All he's ever been good for is getting hurt while he was supposed to be helping her.

"Manly as always, Peeta," I taunt with a bitter laugh that sends fresh waves of pain across my body.

Katniss doesn't say anything to Peeta. She picks the other knife up and walks towards me. With each step, I feel my failure crushing me. This is it. I'm going to die at the hands of my closest ally who I didn't have the nerve to finish off. I failed my family. I lied to Striker. I promised him I'd win.

I can feel my body growing weaker each second, but I manage to hold my head up and look Katniss in the eye. I won't look away. It was impossible for me. I won't make this easier for her. Once again she stares at me, the knife in her hand and conflict on her face. I just stare back into those familiar silver orbs as the winds blow across the water below us.

"You may want to hurry before your boyfriend bleeds out," I say dryly, directing my sharpest glare towards the bloated bag of human excrement that is Peeta.

"No…" Katniss says quietly, almost to herself.

"What?" Peeta and I both manage at the same time.

"I said no," Katniss says, looking all around as if she were surrounded by throngs of Capitol citizens. She looks back towards me. "I'm not going to kill you."

"You have to…" Peeta says weakly, "It's the only way we get out."

"Do they deserve it?" Katniss scoffs, motioning to the air around her before turning back to me again, "Is it worth your life?"

"Was it worth anyone's life?" I ask rhetorically, memories of Brooke and Rue coming back with all the other tributes, even the Careers. All the death is just sad at this point, so unnecessary. As I think of them, I realize how much potential was lost, what everyone could've been if the Capitol hadn't stepped in with the Hunger Games.

Katniss nods in understanding. She doesn't say it, but I swear I can read her thoughts. _It wasn't_ comes across as clearly as if it were spoken. Peeta just looks confused, though. It makes sense. The only tributes he had any contact with, other than Katniss, were the Careers. He didn't get to know anyone else better, not like I did with Rue or Brooke.

"It isn't gonna matter, though," I say, fighting through fresh waves of pain, "Me and Loverboy there don't have long at the rate we're bleeding at. Looks like you're going home with or without company, girl on fire."

"Marvel, I-

"Save it," I say, cutting Katniss off, "It's inevitable now. Someone's gonna win and someone's gonna lose. They gotta have their victor." My dreams of defiance have been dashed by Cato's claws. With this wound bleeding the way it is, I'm simply out of time.

"No," Katniss says, shaking her head and digging into her jacket pocket, "Why should they?"

Katniss holds her hand out, showing a small pile of darkly colored berries. My mind drifts back to training and the edible plants station. There's a phrase gnawing at the back of my mind, just trying to find its way back through the fog. It finally comes through.

Nightlock.

My gaze goes back to Katniss. Once again, there's non-verbal communication. Is she asking what I think she's asking with these poison berries? She gives an almost imperceptible nod and I'm floored. She's thought of it. The ultimate fuck you to the Capitol. Destroy ourselves and leave them without a victor to shower gifts on to convince themselves they're not heartless savages.

Katniss drops a couple into the palm of my shaking hand and goes to Peeta. He protests but she calms him with a simple _trust me_. As I look at the berries in my hand, I'm shocked. It makes sense for me, really. I can't even stand, much less defeat Katniss (if I actually had the nerve to kill her). At this point, if I'm not killed by her, I'll bleed out in a few minutes. At least this way I can go out on my own terms. Peeta's in a similar situation, but what about her? She's able-bodied. She could easily win, go home and see her sister again just like she's always wanted. And yet she's chosen defiance instead. She's chosen not to play Snow's game any longer. One final act to show them they don't own us and that even though they can lock us in here and make us fight each other, they can't completely warp us into what they want. We can still hold onto who we were back home.

My admiration for her swells and I can feel it transforming into something even more powerful. I'm not sure I've ever held this much respect for anyone. Then again, I've never known anyone as extraordinary as Katniss Everdeen.

We all look at each other. Peeta and both exchange glares, or at least as much of a glare as Peeta can manage, before looking towards Katniss. She stands near us, berries in her good hand as blood runs down her other arm from the wound in her shoulder. As the Games have gone on I've noticed her thinning. Her cheekbones getting sharper, her arms getting skinnier, her ribs visible through her t-shirt. She's malnourished, pale, tired…but her eyes haven't changed. They're sharp and determined as ever.

"On the count of three," she says with unwavering determination.

"One."

I look at the berries and think of my family.

"Two."

Please forgive me.

"Three.

I'm fading, but still have enough left to hoist the poisonous berries to my mouth. They're just passing my lips when I hear something, some indiscernible frantic voice, which I vaguely remember belonging to Claudius, booming out over the arena. It sounds something like _Stop_ , but I'm not too sure. I manage to spit the berries out, although their insidiously tart flavor is still on my tongue. Completely dazed and exhausted, I slump over, collapsing into the warm puddle of bloody rainwater surrounding me.

I can't tell what's happening. All I know is that I'm feeling better, the pain slowly fading away as everything gets quieter and quieter. My eyelids are getting heavy and darkness is creeping in, but I can still make out Katniss, still standing. She looks frantic, her face contorted in a pained expression as she yells something I can't hear. Her gaze keeps swinging between me and Peeta, who I've noticed is slumped over as well, eyes closed and unmoving. Did he swallow the berries? I didn't see. I can't tell if I got them out in time, either. Or maybe I've just bled too much.

I'm so tired. I'm so tired of fighting. I can feel my muscles relaxing as I slowly fade, like a fire deprived of wood. I'm vaguely aware of Katniss shaking me, but I'm somewhere far away. Somewhere peaceful. My gaze moves up to the stars again. The last thing I see before the darkness closes in is a hovercraft, circling overhead like a vulture.

* * *

A/N: I hope that was worth the wait


	26. Numb

If there was anything that could rival Striker's interest in my training, it was movies. Anything but romance always captivated the kid. Whenever I had a day off from training and a little bit of money scraped together, I'd ask him what he wanted to do. His answer was always the same. There was always something playing that he desperately wanted to see, usually some type of action movie, although if my parents asked, we'd always gone to see a harmless cartoon. I remember the last one I took him to see, a few weeks before I volunteered and everything turned upside down.

It was President Snow's birthday and, in accordance with such a "magnificent" occasion, school was canceled. Even Odin, bastard that he was, gave us a half-day. I remember how excited I was. I'd managed to convince one of the more arrogant newbies to put a little money on a spear-throwing contest. Five bullseyes later, I had more than enough for two tickets. I practically bounced up the creaky wooden steps of our small house, which looked like it could use a fresh coat of paint. Then again, I think it always looked like that. I probably noticed it more the closer I got to the Hunger Games.

"I'm home," I said as I stepped inside, my nose wrinkling at the musty smell that seemed as much a part of our house as the walls. The lights were on in the hallway and I could hear somebody moving around the kitchen.

"Hey, sweetheart," my mother said as she peeked out of our cramped kitchen, wearing the patched grey cleaning uniform that I always hated seeing her in, "I'm glad you're home. The Randolph's need me to come clean today, something about visitors from the Capitol, and I need you to look after your brother."

"Happy to do it," I said casually, trying to keep from scowling at the thought of my mother scrubbing shit-stains off the Randolph family's toilets while they lounged around, getting drunk while awaiting their guests. I had to tell myself that at least it would make it easier to get Striker out of the house.

"Thank you," my mother said, edging past me in the narrow hallway, "Dad should be home around seven. I'll see you guys later."

I stood by the window a moment after she left, making sure she wasn't coming back because she forgot something. The last thing I needed was her catching me talking to Striker about seeing something violent. My mother was always sensitive about that stuff, always doing her best to distract Striker during the Hunger Games, without a whole lot of success. To him, I think that was the ultimate action movie.

When I passed the kitchen and rounded the corner, Striker was sitting at the base of our ratty brown couch in the living room, crutches beside him and green eyes glued to the screen of our old television, watching Caesar Flickerman interview Seneca Crane, who smiled a serpentine smile and politely refused to divulge any concreate information about the arena to the eccentric host, despite his dramatic pleas.

"How's it going, little brother?" I asked, grinning as Striker spins around to see me, the excitement clear on his face.

"Marvel, you gotta see this! Caesar just asked Seneca if the arena might have werewolves this year and he said, 'You never know'! Can you believe that!" Striker said, spitting the words out so rapidly I almost didn't catch the separations between them all.

"That'd definitely be something," I said, trying to mask my discomfort. Unfortunately, I could believe werewolves being in the Hunger Games. Gamemakers had done far crazier shit before and, given where I'd be going in a few weeks, I wasn't too eager to think about all the things they could fill the arena with.

"Like it's anything you couldn't handle," Striker scoffed, still looking at me like I was a goddamn superhero after all these years, one so immensely powerful that nothing could ever stand up it. Hell, he believed it so whole-heartedly that he almost made me believe it, too.

"Look, do you want sit here talking about werewolves or do you want to go have some fun?" I asked, glad to be getting off the Hunger Games for a moment. Striker's eyes instantly brightened.

"What kind of fun?" asked my brother, making no effort to keep the excitement out of his voice, which secretly made me happy. The day he starts fronting and trying to look cool will be a sad one, evidence of how much things change.

"Oh, nothing spectacular," I said nonchalantly, "I just noticed that _Starship: Eris_ is still playing down at the theater…and I just so happen to have come into a little money today."

For a kid on crutches, Striker could move spectacularly fast when he wanted to. Hell, I've seen kids at the Academy get up slower than he did whenever I suggested going to a movie. He practically blew past me on his way to the door. I just chuckled before heading back to the room we shared.

"Hey! I thought we were going to the movie!" Striker said, brow furrowing and his small features scrunching up in confusion as I kept moving.

"I gotta get out of my training clothes first, bud," I answered, shaking my head at the exaggerated huff my little brother let out as I maneuver my way through our crappy house and back to our bedroom.

Like every other part of our house, our bedroom was small. Our small twin beds, pushed up against opposite walls, took up most of the space. A tiny, and I do mean tiny, wooden bookshelf that barely reached up to my waist and a cramped dresser took up the remaining floor-space, leaving just enough room to awkwardly shimmy your way through the bedroom. I got out of my training clothes as quickly as possible, pulling on fresh garments completely separate from my training, completely separate from the Hunger Games. The transition into the simple t-shirt and jeans feels like a metamorphosis.

I stepped out and found Striker had already vacated the living room. I couldn't help but chuckle a bit as I located him by the door, fidgeting excitedly as he waited for me. I tried to get the door for him, but my little brother was determined, nudging it open himself and hobbling down the steps on his crutches, his frail legs not much of an obstacle in the face of childish excitement. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a bit contagious.

Striker continued to ramble as we walked, talking about all the things that interested him from a weird bug he saw in our bathroom to his friend drawing President Snow in a dress, which would've been even funnier if it wasn't technically a crime. I mostly just listened. It was nice to hear someone talk about things not related to spears or body counts. The weather was perfect as we walked, cool and with a breeze that made everything crisp and brought out a pinkish color on my brother's cheeks. The sky was cloudless and sunshine freely covered District One like a blanket, preventing the day from becoming uncomfortably cold.

There was a line when we finally reached the movie theater, not surprising given that a lot of people had the holiday off. I notice a few of the fifteen-year-olds from the Academy near the front of the line. One of them notices me and nudges the others. I instantly look over at the movie posters, pretending that I haven't seen them.

"Marvel," Striker said, tugging on my wrist as he balances on his crutches.

"Hmm?" I turn down to look at my sibling, who is unfortunately looking at the Academy kids.

"I think those guys are looking at you," Striker said, pointing with his small hand at what I've already seen.

"Comes with being a celebrity, little brother," I said casually, trying to laugh it off. I really, really did not want to talk about the Games or the Academy any more. It's my fucking day off.

"Are they from the Academy?" Striker asked excitedly, green gaze flickering between me and the other trainees, who have now reached the front of the line.

I just shrugged. "Maybe. I don't really know," I lied, "They could just be from my fan club."

My last attempt at humor worked, getting a good laugh from Striker as the other trainees got their tickets. Mercifully, they bought tickets for _Justice_ , some war movie about one of the final battles between the Capitol and the last surviving rebels. Fortunately, _Starship: Eris_ is a matinee and the tickets are cheap enough that I can even get Striker an overpriced candy bar once inside the theater, which he finishes before the previews are even half over.

The movie was okay, although it entertained the hell out of Striker with its alien gore and cool special effects. It told the story of the same crew from the last _Starship_ movie, a group of ridiculously good-looking "peacekeepers" sent by the Capitol to explore other planets. The stories are more or less the same, with the crew landing on the new planet (this one was called _Eris_ ) and discovering a new alien species that inevitably decides it wants to kill them and come to Earth to destroy the Capitol. Then there's a fight, the side-characters that were introduced during this installment usually die and the rest of the crew emerges victorious before heading off into the unknown to explore another new planet.

My mind started wandering during the formulaic love scene between the Captain and the Science Officer, who seem to break up every other movie before showing some interest in one of the new side characters. Then their disposable love interests die and they realize they need each other and blah blah blah. Anyway, during that scene, I found myself just looking around the dark theater, thinking about how much time I'd spent there over the years and how this might be the last time…at least for a while. The idea that I wouldn't be sitting in those hole-ridden upholstery seats or taking in the pleasant smell of popcorn or even getting gum stuck to the bottom of my shoe for the millionth time was sad, much sadder than I expected.

Afterwards, as we were walking home, Striker managed to put a smile back on my face by babbling excitedly about how much he enjoyed the movie. It was later in the afternoon and there was a good amount of people on the street, most of them heading home to watch the mandatory coverage of our president's birthday celebration. We walked in the shadows of District One's sleek, modern buildings, monuments to our home district's opulence, edging our way back towards the rougher part of the District, back to that run-down shack we had to call a house.

"Marvel, look!" Striker said excitedly, stealing my attention from my brooding.

I turned to see my brother pointing, as best he could, at an enormous poster occupying ground-level store window. It was an enormous white one with a red border. The golden seal of the Capitol occupied the upper half and immaculate blood-red script took up the lower half, reading _Prepare to Celebrate the 74_ _th_ _Annual Hunger Games!_

"Can you believe it's only a few weeks away?" Striker asked excitedly.

"Yeah, that's…something," I said, feeling some of that sadness I'd felt in the theater coming back. I knew what I had to do and I knew why I had to do it, but that didn't make it any easier. That didn't make anything easier.

Striker picked up on the lack of excitement in my voice and looked at me closer, green gaze analyzing me like some bizarre scientific specimen. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern clear in his voice. Guilt flared up instantly. My kid brother was already on crutches. He didn't need me dragging him down with my bullshit.

"I'm fine," I lied, "Hey, do you want to go to the park?" I was desperate for something else to distract me for a while.

Striker's eyes instantly widened in excitement and I could see him yearning to say _yes_ , but something restrained him. "Think Mom will mind?" he asked.

"I doubt it and, even if she is, you can tell her it was all my idea," I say with a grin that my brother quickly reflects.

The journey to the park was quick. Once there, I hoisted Striker up on my shoulders, just like old times. As he laughed and enjoyed the moment, I forgot all about that poster and the Games. Instead, I thought about all the days gone by, all the time I'd spent there with Striker, playing with him whenever I could since his crutches made it hard to make friends. Somehow, the knowledge of my impending separation, from him, from my parents, from District One, made those happy memories sad. They almost seemed like something that happened to someone else instead of me.

Eventually, we both got worn out, me in particular since I was doing all the carrying. We flopped down onto the cool grass and sprawled out, watching as the sun began to set. I knew we'd have to get home soon. As always, there just wasn't enough time.

"Striker?" I asked, folding my hands over my gangly legs as I watched the approach of nightfall.

"Yeah?" Striker looked up from where he'd been fiddling with the grass, his face caught by the soft shadows of the evening.

"No matter what happens, you know you're my buddy, right?" I asked, feeling a bit awkward for asking but also feeling like I had to.

Striker looked a bit quizzical for a moment, but still managed to smile. "I know," he said gently.

I nodded, feeling a surprising amount of relief wash over me. I laid out on back and looked up at the sky, where the moon was already rising like an enormous white pearl. "And if Mom asks what movie we saw, what do you say?" I asked, feeling a smile returning to my face.

" _Earl the Squirrel_ ," he answered, immediately reciting the name of whatever children's movie was playing at theaters, one our mother wouldn't object to. I could hear his smile in his voice.

"Good boy," I said.

* * *

When my eyes open, I'm completely alone. My brother and District One are gone. So is the arena. I'm lying in a bed in what looks like a sterile white hospital room, hooked up to all kinds of weird, beeping machines. There's no windows, no chairs and no people. Just flawless white walls and a door. I slowly sit up, but I feel weird, almost like I'm drunk. I throw the white sheets aside. Fortunately, somebody had the foresight to at least put me in a white hospital gown and preserve whatever's left of my modesty.

I swing my legs over the side but they feel heavy, like they're made of lead. As soon as I try to stand, they crumble beneath me. I collapse onto the cold tile floor as the machines go haywire behind me. I wasn't able to keep my head from smacking onto the floor when I fell and now everything's a bit hazy. It looks like a squad of brightly-colored nurses are pouring into the room.

I don't feel their hands lifting me back onto the bed, but I do notice how I'm suddenly on my back, looking up into the blinding white lights on the ceiling. I dimly feel a prick on my arm and have just enough time to look over and see a nurse removing a syringe before everything goes black.

* * *

I don't know how long I'm out, but when I wake up, I'm no longer alone. The room's the same, sterile white walls and sheets with a cold tile floor and beeping machines. The only difference is Cashmere occupying a chair by the door and looking at me with what can only be interpreted as satisfaction.

"The champion awakens," Cashmere says, watching as I slowly sit up, "How're you feeling?"

"Like shit," I manage, feeling my body ache with every movement.

"That's probably because they cut-off your morphling yesterday," she says with a laugh.

"Yesterday? How long have I been here?" I ask.

Cashmere clicks her tongue as she thinks. "It's been about five days since the Games ended."

Five days? Goddamn. I didn't think I'd be out that long. Then it starts to hit me that the Games are over…and I'm still here. I survived. I made it. I did what I promised everyone I would.

"It's over," I say, sighing as I allow my head to fall back onto my pillow. Even after five days of sleep, I'm exhausted.

"Not quite," Cashmere says, prompting me to look up again, "You've still got to do the Recap Show and your final interview. Once the other victors are ready-

"They both survived?" I interject. Katniss looked alright but Peeta? Last time I saw him he looked ready for a body-bag.

Cashmere chuckles. "I know. I was surprised too. You and the wuss from Twelve both almost bled out."

Three victors. That is…unprecedented. I almost can't believe how right I was. The Capitol has to have a victor and when those berries came out, they must've decided to cut their losses. But who made that decision? Was it Snow? Crane? As always when it comes to the Capitol, there's more questions than answers.

"Where's Gloss?" I ask, noticing my other mentor's absence. I would've thought he'd be here popping champagne with District One finally finishing ahead of District Two.

Cashmere hesitates before answering. "He…doesn't want to come."

"What?" I ask.

"He said he wasn't coming and I wouldn't hold your breath for any other visits from my idiot brother," she says.

"But why?"

Cashmere just laughs. "Why do you think? You showed mercy in the Games. You called competitors friends. You chose the outer districts over your own alliance. That kinda stuff doesn't exactly endear you to the career crowd."

"What? Was I supposed to rip everyone's throat open with my teeth like Enobaria?" I ask, exasperated. I swear no amount of brutality will ever satisfy these people.

"No, but you can't deny the way you won was…unusual," Cashmere says.

I flop back down on my bed. "So, Gloss hates me. What're you doing here? You weren't even my mentor."

"The arena's hard on you. It's hard on everyone. Gloss may have forgotten that after ten years but I haven't," Cashmere says, her usually strong gaze softening, "Everyone who makes it out deserves a little kindness."

I sit for a moment, surprised but also sad. I deserve kindness? I think back on the people I killed personally and the people I got killed and I'm not sure I really deserve to be here. And yet here Cashmere is, trying to help me. It really is a kind gesture, one that should move me, but I just don't feel it. I feel nothing, like I've been shot full of morphling.

"Thank you," I manage to say, not wanting to be rude.

Cashmere gets up and comes over. I can feel her standing there, but I don't look up. Then she does something I never expected from one of my district's most celebrated warriors. She pulls me into a hug.

I'm shocked at first and, despite my best efforts, unwanted thoughts return. Memories of the Games come back like awful snapshots. They were always there while I was competing, but I guess the need to survive was enough to suppress them. Now, without the threat of death hanging over me, I see them all and feel the enormity of my actions. I see myself steamrolling poor starving kids at the Cornucopia with my fellow Careers. I see myself finish Ava off. I see Brooke getting stung to death by the tracker jackers. I see myself sit back and let the boy from Ten and the girl from Five get torn apart. I see Rue with a spear in her gut. I see myself stabbing Peeta over and over. I see myself holding a knife to Katniss' throat.

I'm alive but I don't feel that way. I feel destroyed, like a once-proud palace reduced to ruin, crumbling to dust and swept away by the wind forever. Everything I've done won't go away. The Games won't stay in the arena. They'll follow me home. I'll see them on television. I'll hear everyone talk about them. I'll have to carry that burden for the rest of my life, however long that is. This all hits me as Cashmere hugs me. My arms hang limply at my side as this awful realization dawns on me. I know what I should be feeling. I should be devastated. I should be sobbing like a child, but I'm not. Instead, I just feel numb.

"It's okay, kid. We've all been through it," she says quietly.

I'm vaguely aware that it's good not to be alone in this. That'll probably be comforting someday. But not today.

* * *

The next day, they release me from the hospital. I held onto some irrational hope that they'd just let me go home without having to jump through any more hoops. No such luck. They send me back to the Tribute Center to rest as I wait for the Recap Show and the interviews.

The place is somehow even less welcoming than before. Probably because it's mostly empty. The rooms that once buzzed with guards, escorts, mentors and most importantly tributes now sit vacant. And they'll stay that way until next year when a fresh crop of unprepared tributes is dragged in here.

Cashmere and Prue are the only ones who stay with me. Gloss has made it quite obvious that the has no desire to see me again and will probably only show up when it's absolutely necessary. Prue, however, was ecstatic to see me, unable to stop gushing about how noble I was and how much my victory meant to my district after our string of close-finishes behind District Two. I know Prue meant well, but being praised for my performance in the Games made me uncomfortable. It's not her fault. There's no way she could ever understand. Only Cashmere and the other victors could ever do that. I was never more grateful than when she got the excited district escort to leave by reminding her of another extravagant party she just absolutely had to attend.

I return to my room and sleep fitfully. Thankfully, Cashmere lets me be. Once again, I think it's because she understands. She gets how it feels to survive the games. Sometimes you really need someone to give you a hug and other times you want to be alone so desperately you'd hide in a washing machine just to get some solitude.

It's almost nightfall when my eyes open again. My body still hurts and is sorely missing the morphling…oh god, how I miss the morphling. But it's doing a little better. I pull on an old t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, still amazed at how the Capitol somehow healed every single one of my scars…the physical ones, at least. Before leaving, I check myself in the mirror and see a stranger staring back at me. The scars may be gone, but so is that person I saw the last time I looked in this mirror. This stranger has paler, sickly-looking skin. Green eyes that once sparked with activity now look dull and lifeless, sunken and sporting dark bags underneath. And this stranger doesn't smile, either. His mouth is straighter than a ruler, never curling up or down. I only sigh and head out.

Cashmere is sitting on the couch, watching as Caesar and Claudius jabber about how exciting the Games were. Sensing my presence, she promptly changes the channel to some mindless Capitol sitcom, mercifully not related to the Games.

"How you doing?" she asks, blue gaze marked with concern.

"Not great…but a little better," I say, noticing how much my voice has changed. It never used to be this soft or this somber. It used to have some life to it.

Cashmere nods in appreciation. "It'll get easier once you get out of this place. Everything in this fucking city reminds me of the Games," she says with a sigh. I almost ask about what happened to her and what's going to happen to me. She won when I was about eight. I remember her winning, but little about how her Games actually went and what she's been through the past few years. But something in her expression deters me, like it's better not to know.

"I'm…going to the roof," I say simply.

She just nods again. "Be careful," she says finally. I'm not quite sure what to be careful about, but she wouldn't say that for no reason.

I head out of my room and call the elevator. When it finally comes and I step inside, I find myself pausing, staring at each floor number. So many floors, each one containing tributes only a few weeks ago, all sit vacant now. I find myself lingering on the four and the eleven. I can't resist. I press them just to see them light up before finally pressing the button for the roof. I don't mind the stops. I have plenty of time.

I'm glad when I finally reach the roof. I step outside and into the last rays of sunshine. I can see it setting, off in the distance. The sunset should seem gorgeous, vibrant shades of orange, yellow and pink streaking across the clouds, mixing like watercolors. But I just don't see it that way anymore.

I can't help but think it's fake, like everything else in the Capitol. The sunsets, the people, the Games…all bullshit. As I sit down near the edge, I can hear the sounds of all of them partying their asses off from the street below and I have a sudden desire to throw rocks at them. If only the force-field didn't prevent that. I'm not sure I can think of a group of people more deserving of some suffering.

I hear footsteps behind me and stiffen. Only one other person would be coming up to the roof right now. I turn to see Katniss standing behind me, looking much paler and thinner than the warrior I spent nights up here with only a few weeks ago.

"Mind if I sit?" she asks.

I just shrug and face forward again. The sun is right in our faces and the sounds of the Capitol's partying still carries up from the streets. This may be the spot we met, but we aren't the same people. Those two are long gone and we can never be them again. After everything that's happened, I just can't make casual conversation right now and pretend everything's alright when we both know it's not, like there aren't all these awful memories following us like our shadows. It's just too damn hard.

"How's Peeta?" I ask, finally addressing what's been nagging me since I left the hospital.

"Alive. As far as I know, he hasn't left the hospital yet," Katniss answers quietly, some type of sad regret spilling across her features.

I steel myself, ready for Katniss to tear into me. Peeta, her beloved district partner, is still in the hospital thanks to me. With the injuries I gave him, especially those stab wounds in his gut, I'm not surprised he hasn't left the hospital yet.

"I'm sorry about that…for stabbing him, I mean," I say., finally realizing that she isn't itching for fight at this point. God knows I'm not.

Katniss just sighs. "It's not really me you need to apologize to."

We sit in silence for a moment, not really knowing what to say. I know I don't. Somehow, everything that crosses my mind feels inadequate after everything that's happened, like nothing can bridge the gap that's formed.

"Why didn't you kill me?" Katniss finally asks. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her turn toward me.

I don't look at her, keeping my eyes on the sunset. Why didn't I kill her? Is it because I couldn't let them win? After all the people I'd killed and gotten killed could I just not let them get me to do it to a friend? Or is it something more? Did I crack because of what I felt for Katniss? And do I still feel that way or has the Games numbed that, too?

"Well?" Katniss presses.

I finally turn to look at her, meeting that familiar silver gaze. A gaze that's now fixed firmly on me, as if the answer was written on my forehead.

"Why didn't you kill me?" I counter, "Peeta was already on his way out. Cato was dead. You could've won and saved Peeta if you'd just cut my throat. It's not like anyone would've blamed you for doing it."

Like me, Katniss doesn't answer immediately, instead looking out across the city.

"I don't know," she finally says, "I guess after everything, I just couldn't. You didn't deserve that."

I snort at that, drawing a glare from Katniss. I didn't deserve that? Like hell I didn't.

"I deserved that fate a lot more than you. You only killed in self-defense," I say, looking at my hands in my lap, "I killed kids at the Bloodbath. I was a Career."

Katniss shakes her head. "You did the right thing. You helped take them down. You're not one of them."

I just shrug. "That doesn't erase the things I've done. It doesn't make up for the people I killed or the people I got killed. You and Peeta deserved to go home a lot more than I did. I'm just another District One brat that threw away a decent life and a loving family to murder his way through the Hunger Games."

Instead of responding, Katniss surprises me. She scoots over the puts her arm around me, bringing all the old feelings back to the surface. For a moment, the Games and everything that's happened fades away and I'm just here. I feel surprisingly warm and, without thinking, put my arm around her. No matter how numb I may be, I can't deny this feels right.

"You're not being fair to yourself. What you did wasn't easy, volunteering for your family and then turning your back on the Careers to work with a bunch of untrained kids from the outer districts," Katniss says, gaze softening, "Not many people would have the courage to do that and to stick with it all the way to the end. You're not evil. You deserve to live just as much as I do."

"Did we live, though?" I ask, unable to look at Katniss any longer, "I don't know about you, but I haven't felt right since I got out of the arena. I don't feel the same. I don't look at things the same. It's like…it's like I really did die in there."

Katniss is silent for a moment and I go back to looking at the sunset, wishing it made me feel something.

"I think we all died a little bit in there," she finally says.

I immediately turn back to look at her. Her gaze is sad, but somehow still strong. I can't help but be amazed at her strength. Above all else, Katniss is a survivor. If anyone can tell me how to pick up the pieces and carry on, it's her.

"So, what do we do?" I ask.

Katniss looks up into my eyes as she answers. "I don't think we can focus on what we've lost. We have to focus on what we still have. That's the only way we can keep moving forward."

I can't help but notice how we're still holding each other as she says that. I think she notices it too, because when our eyes meet, she smiles. I find myself leaning in again, drawn by that same magnetic force that I was in the arena. When our lips meet, I feel it. I feel what I felt for her before everything happened. That sense of peace that only she's ever brought me comes back and, in that moment, it feels like I've come back to life.

"Goddamn it!" a gruff voice shouts.

Katniss and I jump apart and look towards the door, where a very angry Haymitch Abernathy stands.

"Inside. NOW!" he barks.

* * *

Haymitch didn't hesitate to grab us both the second we were within reach. I thought he was just being protective of his tribute, but he ended up manhandling me too. He dragged us both down to his floor and shoved us into the District Twelve quarters.

"Haymitch, what the fuck?" Katniss hisses.

Haymitch slams the door behind him. "Sit down!" he barks, "Both of you need to shut up and listen right now!"

I think Katniss would like to argue, but something about the desperation in Haymitch's voice indicates that this is important. We both take a seat on one of the couches while Haymitch takes a seat across from us, running his hands over his unshaven face.

"Okay…what I just saw up there can never, ever happen again," he finally says.

What? Is he really that protective? Does he still think I'm some bloodthirsty monster who can't wait to rip his tribute's head off? I know alcoholics aren't the best a processing things, but come on.

"Haymitch, that's not your decision," Katniss says.

"You're right. It's Snow's," he retorts.

"What?" I ask. What the fuck does President Snow have to do with this?

Haymitch sighs deeply. "The President is not happy with how the Games ended and he's especially unhappy with you two."

"Us? Why us?" Katniss asks, looking between Haymitch and I.

"You both defied the Games. You refused to kill each other…and what you two represent together is very, very dangerous," Haymitch continues, looking more serious (and sober) than I have ever seen him.

I arch an eyebrow at the grizzled old mentor. "And what exactly do we represent?" I ask.

"Collaboration," Haymitch answers simply, "Think about it. A Career from District One and an underdog from District Twelve working together, finding common ground and getting closer and closer. It's unheard of. If the districts see something like that, they may realize they're not as different as Snow wants them to think they are. And if they unify…who knows what could happen."

"Haymitch…that's all hypothetical," Katniss says.

"No, it's fucking not. You two have no idea what happened while you were in the arena. When your friend died…Rue," Haymitch says, watching both of us cringe at the memory, "There was a riot in Eleven and incidents in both your districts."

Unbelievable. A riot in District Eleven? And incidents in District Twelve and District One? Could it be true that my home district doesn't love the Capitol as much as it seems to? God knows they wouldn't be supporting me for my good looks and charm.

"What does this mean? Haymitch, is…" I lower my voice and lean closer to whisper, "Is it revolution?"

Haymitch looks nervous, like the word itself is dangerous. "Possibly. There's a lot still up in the air, which is why Snow is doing damage control."

Damage control?

"What exactly does that mean?" Katniss asks.

"It means you're in love with Peeta," Haymitch answers frankly.

Peeta? That was all an act. She even admitted she didn't love him.

"But…I'm not. Haymitch, I-

"No. You do. You love Peeta and those berries were just the actions of someone desperately, insanely in love," Haymitch finishes, dark gaze leveling us both.

"That makes no sense. If she was so desperate to save Peeta, she would've just killed me," I say, not liking the idea of Katniss in love with Peeta at all.

"I know it makes no sense!" Haymitch snaps, "I know it's bullshit, but at this point, pleading insanity is all we've got. What's the alternative? Get up on national television and say that you two were defying the Capitol because they're a bunch of evil, sadistic pricks who force teenagers to kill each other for entertainment?"

"Haymitch, there's gotta be something we-

"Goddamn it! Do you two like having your families alive?" Haymitch barks, cutting off whatever Katniss was going to say.

That remark shuts us both up, its awful implications hanging above us like a storm cloud. Images of Striker, my mother and father lying dead flash across my mind. It almost feels like I've been stabbed again.

"Would they really do that?" I ask, barely finding my voice.

"They've done it before, son," Haymitch says, usually gruff voice laced with sadness.

"So, what do we do?" Katniss asks quietly.

"You keep playing their game. That's what you do," Haymitch says, "Katniss, you have to love Peeta and, above all else, what's going on between you two has to stop."

We're both silent for a moment, drawing in on ourselves. Haymitch sees this and sighs again.

"I'm sorry. I know it's tough, but this is bigger than both of you. If two don't stay away from each other, there will be consequences," he says, standing and turning towards me, "You need to go."

I look towards Katniss and meet a sadder gaze than I saw back on the roof, one that knows there's no escape. I think mine's the same way. Haymitch shows me out and when the door closes behind me, reality sets in. I can't be with Katniss, no matter how much I want to…not if we want to protect those we care about. I also realize that the games are far from over.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the delay, but I really wasn't sure how I wanted to end this story. I've resolved it now and there's still one more chapter coming.**


	27. Homecoming

I never thought I'd be eager for the Recap Show, but I am now. Once it's over and I give my final interview, I'll finally get to go home. I try to focus on that as I wait backstage with Cashmere. I heard Peeta got out of the hospital a few days ago and I'm not exactly looking forward to seeing him. I don't hate Peeta, but I doubt he's got such neutral feelings towards me. I did almost kill him after all.

I haven't seen Katniss since Haymitch laid everything out for us and it's probably for the best. I don't know how I'm going to deal with seeing her out there, especially when basically every interaction I have with her that isn't overwhelmingly negative might set Snow off. I close my eyes and take deep breaths. I can't freak out. I can't do or say anything stupid. Lives depend on it.

"You okay? You sound like you're about to have a heart attack?" Cashmere asks.

No, I'm not okay. Everything could go wrong out there…and that's not even mentioning the Recap itself. I'm going to have to watch everything I did during the Games again, along with worrying about the stirrings of revolution going on in the districts that Snow is super pissed about and I am partially responsible for.

"I-I think I'm just nervous," I say, partially telling the truth.

Cashmere shoots me a knowing look. Maybe Haymitch filled her in since Gloss is a no-show.

"Just stay calm out there. You don't have even have to say much…it's actually probably better if you don't," she says.

Yep. Haymitch definitely told her what's going on. I'm about to agree when I hear Caesar Flickerman's distinctive theme music come on over the speakers. Seconds later, I hear the eccentric host make his entrance. I can't even make out what he's saying over the crowd's hysteria, but I suspect I'll have to enter soon.

"What a Hunger Games that was folks!" Caesar booms, just barely over the crowd. It sets off a fresh wave of cheering that he has to wait to die before he continues.

"Now, I know you're all eager to see our victors...so let's get right to it!" Caesar says, his contagious laughter somehow audible despite the crowd.

I look idly at my suit, but don't bother straightening it. I suppose Antony won't be happy but who gives a shit.

"You know them as the star-crossed lovers from District Twelve," Caesar announces, "But they are now victors of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games! Please welcome back Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire!"

Based on the deafening roar from the crowd, I assume Peeta and Katniss have made their entrance. Somehow, I can still hear Caesar laughing above it all. I can just see him now, flashing that pearly white grin and wearing some ridiculous suit as he pretends this is fun for us.

"And last but certainly not least, you knew this young man as a confident warrior from District One…and he returns to us a champion! Please welcome back Marvel Maddox, also a victor of this year's Hunger Games!" Caesar booms.

I steel myself and head out, hearing the crowd screeching like a pack of wild animals. I fight down my disgust and step onto the stage. The cheering swells and I'm nearly blinded by the spotlight. I can just make out Caesar, standing near some furniture and beckoning me forward.

I step towards him and shake his hand. He beckons me toward a seat which I guess is for me. There's another one for him and a loveseat for Katniss and Peeta, which they're already curled up on. I look at them for a moment and they look at me. Katniss looks collected, but I can see the nervousness in her eyes. Peeta just looks ready to fight me again.

"Ooh! I think there's still a lot tension," Caesar quips, drawing some laughter from the crowd.

The look on Peeta's face answers for him. I almost say something but freeze when I look down. My stomach completely drops as I spot Peeta's new prosthetic leg. I try to keep my breathing even and not let the guilt show on my face. I did that to him. I'm the one who reinjured his leg. I was…I was just out of control when I fought him. And because of that Peeta's going to be missing a leg for the rest of his life.

"Now let's take it easy," Caesar says good-naturedly, "The Games are over! No more fighting with the other tributes."

The crowd laughs again, like this is all somehow funny…and it makes me want to go spit in each one of their faces. I hold onto Cashmere's advice like a life-preserver in the middle of the ocean. I've got to stay calm. If I don't, people die.

"Well, welcome back, victors! I can honestly say it is a pleasure to see each of you again!" Caesar says.

"Thank you, Caesar. It's great to be back," Peeta says, diverting his gaze from me and smiling at the Capitol host. What a fucking liar.

"I have to say, I feel honored to be a part of this momentous occasion. Three victors! That is an unprecedented event in Hunger Games history!" Caesar says, practically giddy with excitement. Either he's a better actor than I thought or Snow hasn't informed him of how unhappy he was with the results.

"It feels incredible to be a part of something so important," Peeta continues, giving this pack of narcissists exactly what they want, "I'm just trying to take it all in."

"I can't blame you, Peeta. It really is something special…what about you two?" Caesar asks, turning to Katniss and I, "How have you been feeling since you left the arena?"

Better not go for the honest answer here.

"Fine," I shrug, "Mostly just recovering."

"Same," Katniss clips.

"Well don't both of you start talking my ear off at once!" Caesar jokes, drawing even more laughter from the crowd.

"But seriously," Caesar says, refocusing so quickly it's almost scary, "I have to ask you, Katniss…what was going through your head when you pulled out those berries?"

The audience goes silent and I almost have a fucking heart attack. This is it. The big one. If she doesn't play this exactly right, we're all in for it.

Katniss is silent for a moment before turning to Peeta with her best impression of affection. "I wasn't thinking. That was the problem," she says, "Peeta was dying and I was just so…distraught at the possibility of losing him that I just decided to do something drastic. I knew that at least then we could be together for sure."

I almost throw up, but apparently it works for the crowd. They let out a chorus of _awws_ and I can hear some of them sobbing. It only gets worse when Peeta pulls Katniss even closer, almost in his fucking lap, and kisses her temple. What's wrong with these people? Did they not watch the Games? Katniss doesn't love Peeta and she didn't pull those berries out because she just "wasn't thinking." Has Snow's narrative already worked? Has he played it enough times that it's already become truth to the citizens of the Capitol? Are they really that stupid or do they just want to believe the love story?

"Marvel?" Caesar asks, drawing me out of my angry thoughts.

"Sorry, I…was lost for a moment there," I say, refocusing. I've still got to get through this shit.

"I saw that," Caesar chuckles, "I was asking you why you accepted the berries."

This is actually the only question I can give an honest answer to. "At that point, it was either swallow the berries or bleed to death. I didn't have many options," I say.

Caesar just nods, but quickly lightens up, eager to move on from the depressing stuff. This is the Capitol after all where people have to be happy one-hundred percent of the time.

"Well, we have the interviews for the rest of the story. I think now it's time for the Recap!" Caesar booms, drawing more insane cheering from the massive crowd.

The lights go down and a massive screen lowers behind us. Then, like a horror film, it starts. The first thirty minutes isn't too bad. It covers the Reapings, the parade, training and the interviews. The key players get most of the camera time. Katniss, Peeta and I make a lot of appearances, along with Cato, Thresh, Clove and a few others.

I have to suppress a lot of emotion when I see Brooke and Rue, my old friends, so alive in the footage, are dead now…and it's my fault. I could've saved them…but I failed.

They show my interview, where I boldly predicted I'd win, along with Peeta's declaration of love, which draws more insufferable cooing from the audience. Then the Games start. I feel myself shrinking down into my chair as I watch the Bloodbath. I can barely watch as I see me and my fellow careers slaughtering everyone in our paths. From there, it skips around. It shows Katniss running through the forest, Peeta joining the careers, Thresh hiding in the wheat field.

Things don't pick up again until we go hunting. I notice the Capitol edited out my conversation with Ava. Instead, it just shows me walk up and stab her like she was barely worth the effort to kill. I feel rage and guilt building and grip the sides of my chair to keep from doing something drastic.

It shows the fire and how Lewis and I saved Brooke before our encounter with Katniss. Then the tracker jackers. It shows the event in all its awful chaotic glory, from Glimmer and Brooke's deaths to the hallucinations to the fight with Cato. I'm still reeling from seeing just how bad Brooke's death was when I feel Peeta's eyes on me. I don't look but I understand it. I saved him from Cato…and even now it doesn't make a whole lot of sense. The best explanation I can give is that I did it for Katniss.

From there, it shows a couple things: the surviving careers recuperating, Peeta camouflaging himself by a creek, Rue saving Katniss and I. Oh Rue. She did so much for both of us…especially me. She had no reason to trust me. I was a District One career and yet she saved me...but when it came time to return the favor, I failed.

It's when our alliance takes center stage that I see just how much they fucked with the footage. Our interactions with Rue are about the same, but every single positive interaction I had with Katniss is gone. Instead, they show our short arguments, our barbs and even our playful insults, which they've doctored to look not so playful. I try to suppress my anger. It's not surprising. Everything Katniss and I talked about, everything we did and said, kinda sinks the Katniss-Peeta ship.

The only enjoyable part of the Recap comes when I see Katniss blow up the supplies and the career's hysterical reactions to it, although I can't help but feel a bit bad for Cooper.

Then the big one happens: Rue's death. I don't want to watch, but I know I have to. I can't be a coward. I have to face the fact that I failed my friend. As I hear her terrified screams again and see Lewis drive his spear into her gut, I can't deny there's some satisfaction when I see Katniss' arrow enter his neck. I shouldn't hate Lewis, but when I'm watching the videos it's impossible to feel anything else. Maybe I'll feel differently later, but right now, I have no sympathy for Lewis. He may have lost Brooke, but that's no excuse for what he did. We've all lost people.

I almost flip over my chair and leave when I see how they cut out everything around Rue's death: Katniss and I holding her hands, Katniss singing and the burial in flowers. They really will stop at nothing to drive their version of the story home and truth is the first thing that's gotta be sacrificed on that altar.

Katniss and I separate not soon after, of course omitting the parts where we said we cared about each other. It shows her reunion with Peeta, along with everyone else just surviving, before getting to the Feast. I can tell by the way Peeta's eyes widen in shock that Katniss didn't tell him too much about what went down. I can feel him looking at me again when I save Katniss, but I don't meet his gaze. I don't really have to because Cato's transformation happens soon after and that steals everyone's attention. I have to resist the urge to cover my ears, all those cracking sounds and the screaming returning.

After that, Cato…or what was Cato, takes over. It shows the creature chasing a terrified Thresh through the woods. I feel guilty when I notice how slow he's running and the wound in his stomach. When Cato catches him, I feel even worse. The creature didn't just kill him. It tore him apart, devouring pieces of his corpse and rendering the body unrecognizable. His family won't even have a decent body to bury. For the second time, I nearly vomit.

After that, it shows Katniss and Peeta cuddling in their cave, exchanging hugs and kisses and all that crap. For the first time since the show started, I look over at them. They're all over each other, which really pisses me off. I try to tell myself I'm not jealous, that this is just how things have to be. It's true that this is unavoidable…but I can't deny how badly I want to trade places with Peeta right now, especially since I know the truth. Hell, anyone who knows Katniss would know the truth. She's never that touchy-feely, especially when she's in front of a massive crowd.

After skimming over the girl from Five's death, which is almost as awful as Thresh's, the finale starts. It shows our climbs to escape the rising floodwater, our meeting and our battle. I notice Peeta rubbing his prosthetic as I slash his leg open. I can't get over how deranged I look, half-starved and wild-eyed. I guess that's just what the Games does.

Me sparing Katniss is skipped, the footage doctored to make it look like the Cato-mutt appeared right after I vanquished Peeta. They get every gory detail of the fight in and I find myself covering my side as I see it stab me with its sharp claws. From there, they show Katniss kill the goddamn thing before going to check on Peeta without even glancing at me.

More bullshit.

Then the berries come out, we are all proclaimed victors and the screen cuts to black.

Almost instantly, the crowd springs to their feet and roars in approval. Caesar laughs but I barely hear it. I feel exhausted, like I just ran a marathon. I hate everything they did, how they made me look…how they made Katniss and I look. I look over and catch her gaze while Peeta's putting on a good face for the crowd. I see it in her eyes.

She hates it, too.

* * *

I must've been the most boring interviewee ever. Caesar tried everything to get me to open up during my personal interview, but I was done. I was done with him, done with the Capitol, done with Snow. I was done with fucking everything. I decided to take a page out of Thresh's playbook and answer with one word whenever possible. I think he actually got tired of my stiffness and cut it short, which I'll take as a small victory.

When Cashmere finally announces it's time to go home a few days later, I feel the closest thing to joy that I've felt since I last kissed Katniss. I ignore the incessant camera flashes and calls of my name as I board the train with my entourage, which now includes a surly Gloss that still isn't speaking to me. It's just as well. I'm not exactly broken up over it. Once in my quarters, I collapse on the bed and drift off into slumber, not even concerned about the nightmares that usually grace me with their presence. I'm too tired to worry. All I want is to leave the Capitol and never return.

* * *

The train has already pulled out by the time I wake up. I had fewer nightmares than usual, so I'll chock that up as another win. Glancing out the window of my quarters, I can tell that it's nighttime. It's just as well. District One is close to the Capitol and we should be there by tomorrow morning. Peeta and Katniss will have a much longer ride home, but that isn't my problem. Gloss, Cashmere and I are getting dropped off first.

After falling asleep for so long, I'm pretty hungry. I've been that way since I left the arena, sneaking food whenever possible. It never seems to be enough. I eat constantly and never feel full. What's even worse is that I still see a skeleton whenever I look in the mirror. I suppose I'll have plenty of time to workout when I get back home, but a little bit concerned my body has been forever altered. I was skinny before but this is unnatural.

As I make my way through to darkened halls to the dining cart, I have to pass through numerous automatic doors that whoosh open as you approach them. As I pass through the last one before the door to the dining cart, I run into the only person probably less excited to see me than Gloss: Peeta.

What's he doing up? Is he up for a midnight snack or can he just not sleep? I wouldn't be surprised if nightmares were getting to him, too. He pauses when he sees me, switching from looking tired to surprised to angry all in a few seconds.

"Evening, Loverboy," I say, giving my best shot at humor.

Judging by the way Peeta's blue eyes narrow, I don't think it worked. He shoulders his way past me without a word, but when the opposite door whooshes open, I feel the need to say something.

"Peeta, listen…" I say, noticing him stiffen at his name, "I just wanted to say I'm…I'm sorry about the leg."

Peeta pivots and punches me in the face so fast I don't even see it, just a blur of movement. My jaw is throbbing as I find myself on the floor. Peeta could pack a much harder punch than I ever expected.

I deserved the first one and I could let that go, but when I Peeta jumps on top of me and starts raining down blows, I feel my control slip. Training kicks in and I head-butt him, knocking him off my chest. Before he can get up, I swipe his prosthetic leg out from under him and seize the upper hand, forcing him down and raising my fist.

But I freeze. Peeta's already bleeding badly from his nose. His prosthetic is detached, effectively crippling him…and here I am ready to wail on him some more. Haven't I caused him enough suffering?

I pull my fist back and get off him. He refuses to make eye contact with me, grimacing as he focuses on the floor.

"Peeta…I'm sorry about the leg. I really am. I'd take it back if I could, but I can't and the Games are over," I say, hoping he'll see reason. I understand his anger, but how much more fighting can we all take?

Peeta laughs bitterly as he reattaches his prosthetic. "You think I'm mad about the leg?" he says, shaking his head, "You're stupider than I thought."

"If you're not mad about that, I'm not sure what your problem is," I say, "But if you-

Peeta cuts me off. "You know goddamn well what my problem is," he spits.

"Okay…for one second, pretend I don't and humor me," I hiss, my anger beginning to take over.

"I've seen how she looks at you," Peeta says, voice barely above a whisper, "It's the way I always wished she'd look at me."

I'm confused for a second and then it hits me: _she_ is Katniss, the girl Peeta is hopelessly in love with. The same girl I've kissed twice.

"Peeta, don't be ridiculous. Katniss is with you. She loves you," I lie. As much as it kills me to push for them to be together, it's what has to be done.

Peeta just scoffs and shakes his head. "She's with me alright…but she doesn't love me. She loves someone else."

My eyes widen at that. Katniss said she cared for me, but love? There's no way she said that. That's gotta be Peeta's assessment of the situation, right?

"Peeta, I-

"Save it," he interjects, hauling himself to his feet slowly, like an old man, "It isn't fair. I've loved her for ten years. You've only done it for a few weeks."

Wait, what? I care for Katniss…I care for her a lot, but I know I never said that. Even if it was true and permitted by Snow, it'd be way too early for that. This is just what Peeta thinks...right?

"Peeta, wake up," I say, allowing my own bitterness to come through, "Katniss is going to be with you. Period. End of story. Just be grateful."

What the hell is he whining about? Katniss has been all but betrothed to him. He's going to be with the girl he loves and nothing in Panem can stop that.

"Sure…sure," he says as he walks away to his room, leaving me all alone.

I stand there a moment, stewing in my anger. Awful images of Katniss being in his room waiting for him make me wish I had kicked his ass when I had the chance. I try to shake it off, but it's persistent. His assumptions were something else. He was right about some things…and he may've been right about everything.

* * *

It's a good thing that Cashmere woke me up this morning. I might've lashed out at someone else. I barely slept, staying up thinking about Katniss, about Peeta, about home and everything else that's happened. My jaw is still sore but it fortunately hasn't turned purple or anything like that. When Cashmere told me we'd arrived in District One and had to depart soon, I didn't feel ready. It's crazy. After yearning to get back home so badly, I felt afraid now that I was there. I think I was afraid of seeing everything, all the familiar places. I was afraid they'd make me feel nothing just like the sunset had. I was afraid I'd have proof that everything was different. Not because District One changed but because I did.

I end up retreating to the caboose, where thankfully the blinds are closed on the window. I can hear the crowd out there, whether it's a welcoming committee or an angry mob, I'm not really sure. I could see how my actions wouldn't exactly make me Mr. Popular here…but then again we haven't had a victor in a while. In a career district, that may negate everything else.

I lean against the wall and shut my eyes, trying to slow my breathing. I just wish this could all be over. I wish things could be simple again.

"You okay?" a familiar voice asks.

I open my eyes to see Katniss standing in the caboose with me. The mere sight of her, coupled with the fact that she came back here to talk to me, increases my heart rate. She looks great. I suppose she always did to me.

"I'm alright," I say, "I just don't know what I'm going to do now."

"What do you mean?" Katniss asks.

"Just…everything. I don't know what my life's going to be now. Everything's changed so much. There's no way things can return to how they were," I say, "I just don't know how I'll handle it."

Katniss nods in understanding. She gets it. God knows she does. We've both been to hell and back. The Games smashed everything and now all we can do is pick up the pieces and move on.

"Are you worried?" I ask.

Katniss nods. "Mostly about the same things as you…I worry about where everything's going. I know I'll never be the same, but I…I'd like to think I could be okay again."

"Me too," I answer quietly, thinking about the nightmares I've had. Some are worse than others. The mutt ones are more bearable compared to the one's featuring Striker or Rue…or Katniss.

"Marvel! We've gotta go!" I hear Cashmere call from the front of the train.

"I'll be there in a minute!" I call back before sighing.

I turn towards Katniss and we exchange a sad glance. We both know it. This is the end. One last time, I decide to take a risk. I pull Katniss into my arms and hug her with all my might.

"Thank you," I whisper, "For everything. No matter what happens, I'm glad that I met you."

"I'm glad I met you, too," she says, her usually calm voice laced with emotion, "You take care of yourself, okay?"

I nod and we pull apart. Then, without another word or glance, I walk away. Each step is more painful than the last, each one taking me further and further from Katniss. Is this what love is? Because if it is, it's fucking miserable.

When I reach the door, Cashmere and Gloss are already waiting for me. Cashmere gives me a smile and Gloss is still refusing to acknowledge my presence. As I hear the door unlatch, I start shaking. I'm not the same person that boarded this train a month ago. That was a kid, a stupid kid…but an alive one. With Katniss gone, I feel numb again, like I really did die back in that arena.

Is what I fought for? Emptiness? There's gotta be something more. This can't be it. Is that what the Games really do to you? Do they strip you of everything you once were, rob you of all feelings and belief? I think of the victors I've seen on TV, the ones who turned to morphling or became alcoholics and wonder if that's where I'm heading. Is that the only way to deal with everything? Is that the only way they have of forgetting that the Games broke them beyond repair?

The door opens, allowing light and cheering to flood in. Cashmere beckons me forward as Gloss struts out to bask in the glory. I step out, my eyes scanning cheering people before me…then they freeze. They freeze on three people on the platform waiting for me.

My mother's there and she's got tears in her eyes. My dad does, too. He's holding Striker back with his good arm, who can't keep the excitement off his face and is trying to rush toward me despite his crutches. I don't think. I don't have to. I stride forward, almost shoving a photographer out of the way, and find myself enveloped in a group hug.

When their arms come around me, I feel again. I feel the pain of separation. I feel the anguish. I feel the joy of reuniting. But most of all, I feel the love. As they all hug me, I feel tears coming and I don't stop them. In a world that has been out to kill me, to wound me, to break me, here I am safe. Here is where I belong. It's where I always belonged. Nowhere else am I loved like this. And I was so goddamn stupid that I almost threw it away.

"I-I'm so sorry," I manage through the sobs.

"Shh," my mother whispers, "It's okay."

For the first time in a long time, I think that may be true. It may not be true now. But I'm hopeful. I'm hopeful that it could be. I can be okay again. The Games have changed me forever. They have a way of doing that, of warping you and taking your life even if you survive. But I'm not completely dead yet. There's still a chance for me and, gradually, I will learn to live again.

The End


	28. A Letter to the Readers

Dear Friends,

First, I'd like to thank each and every one of you for sticking with this story so long and allowing me to share my writing with you. Prior to this story, I'd never really written anything of substantial length. This wound up cracking 300 pages on my laptop and is basically my first novel. I'd never thought that I was capable of writing something like that before, but there it is. The love you guys gave this story really encouraged me, especially at the low moments, and I'm extremely grateful for every review, follow and favorite. I'm also thankful to any silent readers out there. You spent time reading my story as well and I thank you for it.

As for Marvel and this story, I really can't guarantee anything concerning its future. I do have some interest in a sequel, but I've spent a long time on this story alone and am eager to explore new ideas, possibly even commercial ones now that I know I can write something of novel length. Regardless of the future, Marvel will always be in my heart, as will all of you.

Sincerely,

C. Montgomery Burns


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